Posts tagged ‘France’

September in Essoyes, Paris, and Nice!

My goodness, what a busy month this has been!

First of all, there was the vendange (the grape harvest) which of course is always a busy and important time of year in Essoyes. This year, despite a very dry summer, there was a very abundant harvest, which made everyone both relieved and happy.

To add the excitement for me, this year one of my oldest and dearest friends in the world came for a visit. She and her husband were lucky to finally, on their third try, be able to take a Rhine River cruise to celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary, after two previous cruises were postponed due to Covid restrictions. And I was lucky that after their cruise was over they chose to meet me in Paris and then come with me to Essoyes for a couple of days before they had to head back home to Colorado.

They had a whirlwind couple of days in Paris, in which they were able to make it to two of the three sights that Colleen’s 95-year-old father had told them were “must-sees”: the Basilica of Sacré Coeur in Montmartre, and the rue du Bac. We weren’t able to work in a visit to Chartres, Mr. Foy’s third must-see, in the short time they had, but we did stop in the beautiful medieval city of Troyes on our way to Essoyes. Troyes has many beautiful churches, as well as a cathedral, a synagogue, and a mosque. I took them to see my favorite church, the Eglise de la Madeleine, and they also were able to visit the very cool Musée de l’Outil et de la Pensée Ouvrière (Museum of Tools and of Workers’ Thought).

Then it was on to Essoyes. My friends got there too late to see the grapes being pressed, but not too late to be given a wonderful private tour of the pressoir owned by our friends Bethsabée and Léa Roger, which they declared a highlight of their visit.

Their visit to Essoyes was wonderful, but short. And almost as soon as they left I had to leave Essoyes again, to go to Nice, where I had been invited to present on Demystifying the French at a conference my friend Adrian was hosting. It was a very interesting, friendly and responsive audience, composed of (mostly) Americans who are considering the possibility of moving to France. We had a great time discussing some of the cultural differences between the French way of doing things, and the American way, that can lead to confusion and even sometimes dismay not only for Americans, but for French people as well. I tried to give them some tips about how to understand these differences and how to avoid cultural clashes over them, and I was very happy that quite a few people told me afterward that they really enjoyed my presentation.

The day after my presentation I was invited to join the group in a one-day tour of the lovely Côte d’Azur area before they went on to Provence and Occitanie. What a treat! Here are just a few images from a lovely day.

Then it was back to Essoyes, and time to settle into autumn activities: stacking wood, resuming my writing projects, and preparing to continue exploring the history of France with the students in my online class. There’s room for more students this time, so if anyone is interested in learning about how France recovered from World War II, we’ll be reading three very interesting books and we’ll have a couple of great visitors to the class who will share their expertise to augment our learning.

Wishing everyone a happy, safe, productive autumn. (You can keep wearing your masks if you want to 🙂 )

Janet Hulstrand is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divides her time between the US and France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You and will soon publish her next book, A Long Way from Iowa, a literary memoir.

September 22, 2022 at 4:00 pm Leave a comment

Beautiful Italia, and then back home

On TrenItalia, in Tuscany. Masks required!

This is the summer when people really began to travel again, and I was lucky to be able to do so also. There was that fun trip to London in May that I wrote about here. Then in June I participated in a Meet the Authors event in Nice, where I had the opportunity to tell people about my book Demystifying the French. And–super conveniently–I was also invited to join a friend for a few days in a beautiful Tuscan villa she had rented. When her family couldn’t be there for as much time as they had planned, she decided to invite some of her friends to enjoy this beautiful place with her. And I was one of the lucky ones, especially lucky since starting from Nice I was already halfway there.

Although traveling by air was recommended by several friends, that didn’t make sense to me. The closest I would have been able to get by air was Florence, which was still quite a distance from my destination. And since I always prefer travel by rail in any case–and since the scientists of the world are telling us we all need to stop flying as much as possible–I made the trip by train. It was fairly long–I got on the train in Ventimiglia, just over the Italian border, at about 6:30 in the morning and arrived in Sinalunga, where my friend had come to pick me up, at about 4:30 in the afternoon. So–it was quite a few hours on the train–and I enjoyed them all. (I always do.) And it was FAR less expensive than traveling by air and being harassed and interrupted all along the way. Much more peaceful time to read, and write, and look out the window, and think…and see Italy, close up!

This was the farthest I had been into Italy–about 50 miles south of Florence, in the heart of Tuscany. And what a beautiful part of the world! Warm, friendly people, a lyrical, beautiful language, stunningly beautiful landscapes and architecture, wonderful food. (For example, for me the discovery of a new favorite cheese (pecorino). And the chance to spend some relaxed, leisurely time with a good friend. What’s not to like in all of that?

We did some touring of the little Tuscan hill towns, including Pienza, where we had a lovely lunch one day (pictured above). Another day we had a hair-raising drive through a tiny little town the name of which I do not remember; but I will never forget trying to tamp down the anxiety I felt as my friend negotiated a series of hairpin turns in her rented Jeep, on a very steep slope on a very narrow street that we hoped (as we went around each blind turn) was a one-way. (I was very impressed that she was able to keep her cool. I had enough trouble keeping my cool being the passenger.) We also developed a favorite local trattoria near the villa where we began to get to know the staff, and the menu, and feel like regulars.

Then it was time to head home to Champagne. I had purchased an Air France ticket to return from Florence, thinking my friend would be going there to meet her next round of guests, but lo and behold, in the end my preference for train travel won out again. The night before my trip, the airline cancelled my flight and proposed that instead I should fly to Paris from Bologna–which was quite a bit farther away from where I was staying–and that I would have to get there earlier than my original travel time.

I said “no thanks” and requested a refund instead. I am hoping the airline will see fit to refund my money since the substitution they offered was in no way acceptable. Not only would I have had to travel farther to get to the airport and get there earlier, but I would have had to change planes in Amsterdam, of all places. Not even close to “on the way.” (As it turned out, ultimately the flight I declined as a substitute was delayed to the point where I would also have had to stay overnight in Amsterdam. 😦 !)

So I opted instead to take the train from Florence to Paris. This was a delightful nine-hour ride through beautiful Alpine country in both Italy and France. I will fight hard to get the refund that I have coming to me, and maybe even look into the possibility of getting compensation for a bungled flight because of EU rules protecting consumers from such nonsense. But the truth is that even if I don’t succeed I will be glad I decided to spend nine peaceful hours on a train than twice as many hours being aggravated in a series of chaotic airport scenes in unfamiliar airports, and then either sleeping in an airport or having to negotiate spending a night in an airport hotel in a city I had no interest in being in (at that time) (!)

Anyway enough of the complaining part of this post. Well, almost.

I finally had my turn with Covid immediately on my return to France. But I can’t really complain about that: I was thrice vaccinated, so my case was mild; I was in a very nice place to recover, and a place where it is very easy to self-isolate.

My place of self-isolation

Now I’m fine, the isolation is over, and much of the rest of the summer remains. As the new French Minister of Health advised us all last week, I will be wearing my mask more frequently again, even though it is not yet obligatory. Apparently Italy has that right, and France does not (yet).

Stay well everyone. The virus is still here–but by now we’ve all learned a lot about how to try to avoid getting it. So let’s do it!

And enjoy your summer, wherever you are.

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 Long Way from Iowa: A Literary Memoir.

July 8, 2022 at 2:51 pm 1 comment

Demystifying the French: A Panel Discussion on Zoom

The event is over now, but you can still watch it. Here’s the link!

August 14, 2021 at 2:16 pm Leave a comment

Midsummer Night’s Dream…

Summer evening, photo by Janet Hulstrand

It is just past summer solstice, and France is creeping out from under the restrictions imposed due to the pandemic. Last week Prime Minister Jean Castex announced that people are no longer required to wear masks outdoors. (This included, significantly, children playing in the school playgrounds; one can only imagine the happiness of the little ones at this news.)

Also, the evening curfew has been lifted completely. This came just in time for the annual Fêtes de la Musique, a nocturnal festival that occurs all over France on the summer solstice, and is followed by the celebration of the Festival of St. Jean, on June 24.

Here in Essoyes, people are joyfully celebrating the ability to be together again. The restaurants and cafes have reopened. A couple of weeks ago there was a village-wide vide maison (empty the house) what we would call a garage or yard sale, and other special activities, including a hike followed by a community picnic.

Reopening means reopening cultural events also. There will be organ concerts in the church at Essoyes over the next few weeks, bringing musicians from as near as Dijon, and as far away as Scotland and Finland.

Three Concerts in l’Eglise d’Essoyes during July.

Among the benefits of country living are being able to get your second Astra Zeneca dose from your friendly local pharmacists, which I did last week. At this point about 50 percent of the French population has received a first dose of the vaccine, and 30 percent have received their second: it’s not enough, but it’s a good start. Hopefully the numbers will continue to grow as rapidly as possible. Last week the vaccine was opened up to children 12 and older as well.

The abundance of the land begins to express itself in early summer. Here are a few proofs of that.

These images are of the barley, wheat, and wild strawberries that grow right in or next to my yard. Up in the hills surrounding the village, the vignerons have been especially busy over the last 10 days: this is the part of the summer where the vines must be trellised, which requires extra hands in the vines. The enjambeurs have been heading into the vineyards early in the morning–sometimes at dawn. Of course, this being France, they come back down for a nice, long lunch. Then it’s back into the vineyards again to work until early evening.

I am lucky to have a neighbor whose hens are prolific enough that she is able to share their eggs with others. Fresher, more delicious eggs I have never tasted!

Finally, from spring to fall there are many lovely varieties of wildflowers here that spring up of their own volition, brightening landscapes and cityscapes alike with their colorful variations. Here are a few of the current stars of the show.

Wishing you a safe, pleasant summer wherever you are. Bonne continuation, et 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 Long Way from Iowa: A Literary Memoir.

June 29, 2021 at 6:38 pm Leave a comment

Déconfinement Again, Hoping It Will Last (!)

Sandwich Jambon, Vin Ordinaire c 1978. Photo by Janet Hulstrand.

Of course I can only speak for myself. But here is how I would describe the importance of this day in France.

Today is the day that many businesses that have been closed for many months–most notably museums, cinemas, and most of all sidewalk cafés–are reopening.

They’re not reopening in the way they were before, not yet. It is only the terraces that are reopening, not the interiors of cafes and restaurants.

And the curfew hours are still in place (though the limit has been extended two hours now, until 9 pm, not the highly impractical 7 pm).

Nonetheless there is a very excited feeling of (cautious) joy, I would say, all through France. Cafe owners and their employees are very eager to get back to work. Ordinary citizens (as well as all the leaders of government) are very eager to bring their business back to them.

And since sitting in a sidewalk cafe is not just a worn cliché, but in fact a very essential and important part of life in France, this return, limited though it is, cautious though it may be, is extremely important. And so there is a kind of kids-on-Christmas-morning feeling to this day, a kind of can’t-help-wanting-to-skip kind of feeling.

I am hoping with all my heart that this déconfinement will be able to last for “the kids.”

A few posts ago I wrote about the word “lassitude“, which is a word in both French and English, and in both languages it means a kind of deep, sustained weariness. It is a state of being we’ve of necessity come to understand in the past year, even though most of us don’t even really have enough going wrong for us that we deserve to apply the term to ourselves–that should be saved for the small businessmen and women hoping desperately to be able to return to work soon enough to save their businesses from bankruptcy. And even more for the healthcare workers who have had to maintain courage, energy, strength, health, and compassion over a very long stretch of exhausting, discouraging, heartbreaking, and sometimes frightening work.

Today I believe the word of the moment is “chastened.” It is a day of excited joy, but it is also a day of only cautious optimism.

Because how can we, after all, emerge from this protracted year of worry and frustration, annoyance and confusion, without some lurking sense that things will never be the same again? That this is just another period of false hope before the next round of coronovirus knocks the country to its feet again?

I think it is probably more or less impossible not to have that lurking thought anywhere in our minds and hearts. Because to be conscious, to be paying attention at all is to know that what we have been going through is a very serious crisis, not easily solved, not quickly solved either. And not done yet.

So unbridled joy is probably not possible. The image I have is of us all tiptoeing out of our homes cautiously, quietly, as if (somehow) by not letting the virus know we are resuming life as we like to live it it will not notice, and it will LEAVE US ALONE!!!

And yet there is an irresistible, very human desire to just simply rejoice in this day.

Carpe diem, the ancients said. “Seize the day.” The point is, this is a new day. At least for the moment, the sun is shining (though the forecast suggests that it will not shine all day). The tables are out again. All across this beautiful nation people are cautiously returning to one of their favorite activities, an activity that has charmed, and pleased, comforted and seduced people from all around the world for hundreds of years.

That is, sitting in a sidewalk cafe watching the world go by. There are very few things in life that bring more joy in such a simple, fundamental way. The French have brought this simple, joyful, idea of convivial gathering to perfection. Today they are going to be able to enjoy it once again. They are going to be living the meaning of the sheer joy of just “hanging out without feeling guilty.” (Which is a chapter in my friend Harriet Welty Rochefort’s book Joie De Vivre). A book you should read!

Let’s wish them well, shall we? And let’s hope anyone reading this who hopes to be able to return to a table in a sidewalk cafe in France, to enjoy that incomparable feeling of being en terrasse, can do so sometime soon…

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.”

May 19, 2021 at 1:38 pm 2 comments

What I saw in Troyes today…

Wouldn’t you like to sit here for an hour or two, reading? I would.

Troyes is one of my favorite cities in France. This is partly because it is “home.” (Well. It is the departemental capital of l’Aube, and the home of “my” prefecture. So, that makes it kinda like home.)

It is a very interesting city, with lots of museums, abundant cultural and artistic activity, and all of the things one looks for in a vibrant urban setting. It is also ancient, and full of fascinating history.

But today I was only there for an hour and a half, and all I did was take a few pictures on this lovely spring day to share with you all. To show you the everyday beauty of this city.

There were some children too, with their teacher, from a maternelle. I was taken with their joyous shouts and the amusing array of human diversity they displayed as they passed by me–one holding the teacher’s hand, most of the others running ahead, one or two lagging behind, as if it say “What?! We’re leaving already? Why?!”

So taken that I didn’t think to take a picture until they were gone. So you’ll just have to imagine that…

I hope you have enjoyed this little mini-tour of Troyes. You should come here someday and see it for yourself. You really should!

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.”

April 26, 2021 at 8:00 pm 2 comments

Locked Down AGAIN…

Reminders about “les gestes barrieres” in a train station

I had to look up the word “lassitude” this week. It is a word (in French) that is being spoken a lot recently. We have the same word in English, but it is one of those words we don’t use very often, so I had to look it up even in English. It means weariness.

Weariness is of course not quite the same thing as being tired. Being tired is something that can be cured by a nap, or perhaps a good night’s sleep. Weariness, on the other hand, suggests a fatigue born of an extended period of being tired of, or because of, something, something that wears down not only one’s level of energy, but also motivation, spirit, enthusiasm, and certainly joie de vivre.

And that is what we have here in France right now. Lassitude as we go into Year 2 of the Covid 19 pandemic.

There has been a lot of complaining this week, especially since, given concerning increases in the number of infections, especially in certain parts of France, and even more because, given frankly almost alarming reports of the increasing pressures on the hospitals in those regions, the government–some would say finally, others would say ridiculously–has imposed another set of restrictions.

This time only 16 departments of France (including Paris and the surrounding region, and also Lille, Nice, and their surrounding regions) are included. The theme of the lockdown this time is freiner sans fermer, which means “put the brakes on without closing down.” This has meant a rather complicated (and controversial) set of rules about what kinds of enterprises can stay open (bookstores, florists, hairdressers, bakeries OF COURSE) and which kind cannot (large-surface stores, museums, theaters, restaurants and cafes).

It’s been a terribly long time for some sectors of the economy, most notably restaurants and cafes, museums, theaters, and so on. It’s heartbreaking to hear restaurateurs in particular talk about their anxiety, about how they can possibly manage not to go out of business altogether, these people who in normal times provide all of us with such a wonderful service. (The word “restaurant” after all, comes from the French word restaurer (to restore). Think about that!) Managing a restaurant, it has always seemed to me, must be one of the hardest ways to make a living. How will they get through this?

The answers to these questions are not clear to me. In the beginning of the crisis, a year ago, one of the things that was most impressive and comforting to me about Macron’s address to the nation was the stress he placed on how the government intended to do everything it could to not only deal with the crise sanitaire (the health crisis) but also the economic consequences of having to shut so much of the economy down. Has this government kept those promises? I’m not too sure about that, but much of what I hear on French TV and radio suggests that whatever is being done is too little too late, or maybe in some cases not at all.

Some businesses have been spared the shutdown this time–bookshops, hairdressers, florists and of course bakeries and other food shops. The despised attestations that everyone was required to carry in the previous two lockdowns every time they left their homes is not required this time for people going out during the day and staying within the 10 kilometer limits of the restriction. And there is no time limit on how long you can be outside this time, for which everyone is grateful.

As I mentioned in my last post, I think it’s important for everyone to keep in mind for whom this year-long crisis is the most difficult, and calibrate our personal annoyance and lassitude with the situation accordingly. Of course everyone has had it with this crisis. (In French, the phrase is “on en a marre.”) But really, we do not all have an equal right to “having had it”: the health care workers who were being cheered in the streets as they made their weary way home after difficult days of saving lives a year ago are not being cheered anymore. Instead they are having to work just as hard (or harder) than they did a year ago with what must be an overwhelming sense of fatigue and pessimism about whether this extended trial will ever end. They are the ones who have the greatest right to being sick of it all. We have to just hope that they don’t throw in the towel, and be extremely grateful that most of them are not doing so. We need them!

I also would like to say something that I am pretty sure is going to be somewhat controversial, perhaps even downright unpopular. But I think it needs to be said. And that is that the amount of intense criticism that the government here in France is subject to is, I believe, somewhat unfair.

This is not to say that I do not agree with the thousands (millions?) of people who feel that the Macron government has bungled the managing of this crisis. What seemed to be a strong start in the beginning of the crisis is not as admirable by now, a year in. There are many reasons for this, some the fault of the government, and of Macron himself; but many of them are no one’s fault, really.

The problem is that this is so far, a very difficult crisis to manage. It may even be, to some extent, more or less impossible. One doesn’t have to look very far, all around in Europe in fact, to see that it is certainly not just Emmanuel Macron who is having a hard time figuring out what to do to keep his people safe, and prevent the economy from completely crashing.

This is a new disease, and new problems keep cropping up: shortages of the vaccines that almost miraculously have been able to be developed on such a short timeline; new variants of the disease cropping up all over the place in a most dismaying way. Europe is also struggling with trying to figure out how to function as a “union” rather than just a set of separate political entities that exist geographically adjacent to each other. It’s not easy (take a look at the United States to see how just how not-easy “forming a perfect union” can be, and how long it takes…)

So, while I do believe there’s been a lot of bungling in France since the fall. And while I personally believe that that is mainly because the government did not continue to listen to doctors as carefully as they should have, and did, in the beginning of the crisis. Where we are now was fairly predictable and probably could have been avoided by earlier, more aggressive governmental action. And by listening to the doctors, many of whom said “partial measures do not work.”

But I cannot help but think about what it must be like to be Emmanuel Macron, or Jean Castex, or Olivier Véran, the French minister of health, these days. I think we should all remember that these too are human beings, flawed like all human beings. They have probably made some big mistakes. But who among us would want to have the heavy burden of the responsibility that is on their shoulders? Who would want to have to keep guessing, or betting, or hoping rather than being able to plan in a way that was predictably fail-proof? Who would want to be any one of them trying to figure out what to do, trying to go to sleep at night, looking in the mirror and asking oneself if what they are doing is the right and best thing?

When I hear these people being criticized so strongly, I can’t help but think about their humanity, and how tired (and frightened) they must be as they struggle to keep up with this monstrous, protean virus.

The thing I think should be remembered is this: these are people who care and care deeply. We all saw the dreadful reality of a powerful leader of a nation who really did not care about the fact that hundreds of thousands of his citizens were dying, and who made things much worse, not better. (And his comment? “I take no responsibility,” and “It is what it is…”)

France is not in the hands of such people. I think they’re doing their best, or at least they’ve been trying to.

If we are going to blame anyone for this crisis, I suggest we look to the billionaires of the world, who apparently have been becoming even more obscenely wealthy, as the poorest of the poor bear the brunt of this crisis. It seems to me that the one thing that should be being done, and is not, is those very billionaires stepping up, and emptying their over-full pockets. Why couldn’t they do so? Why couldn’t they help the government by dumping some of their wealth in those places that need help the most? I don’t see any reason why they couldn’t.

Do you?

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.”

March 23, 2021 at 10:29 am 2 comments

Everyone is tired of this virus…

No hugging each other. (But you can hug yourself.) Keep a safe distance. Wear masks.

…and that is perfectly understandable.

However, it’s still here. And we still have to fight it, every way we can.

Many people are getting tired of Emmanuel Macron as well, and many (myself included) are disappointed about his shifting from the center ever more toward the right end of the political spectrum.

Still. This story made me smile this morning, and I am choosing to feel good about the fact that two young (and apparently extremely popular) YouTubers who I had never heard of before (because, let’s face it, I am neither that young, nor that cool…) accepted a challenge from le President de la République (Macron) to make a video reminding everyone of all the ways we need to continue working together to fight the virus that is, after all, continuing to wreak plenty of havoc among us–not only those who are suffering from the virus itself, but also those who are caring for them. (And they, more than anyone, have a right to be very very tired of it.)

The President challenged the YouTubers (McFly et Carlito) to make a video reminding everyone of what les gestes barrieres are (masks, physical distancing, airing out rooms, working from home, avoiding large gatherings, and so on). And has promised them that if they can gather 10 million views he’ll invite them to do a video of their choice from the presidential palace (Elysée).

They in turn have expressed completely appropriate skepticism and characteristic youthful irreverence about the challenge (among other things, they refer to him as “Manu” which is a not quite correct way to refer to le President de la République* but hey, what did he expect from these two?)

More importantly, they accepted his challenge and have made a very witty video doing exactly what he asked them to do. And they in turn have promised that any money they raise in connection with this video will go to help feed students in need. (Last year they raised more than 400,000 euros to help healthcare workers.)

So why not take a look at it, and help them meet their goal? It will be a good test of your French, and my hope is that even if you don’t understand all of it, it will make you smile. Here it is!

It certainly cheered me up this morning 🙂

*Always something new to learn: here’s a bit more context about the term “Manu.” Who knew? (Not I. 🙂 But I agree, he shouldn’t have humiliated the young man…)

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.”

February 22, 2021 at 9:31 am 1 comment

Snow across la belle France…

These birds were my faithful friends, and my home entertainment during a very wintry week across northern France…

It is easier (and also more fun) to write about snow, and birds, than about the pandemic. So that is what I have decided to do today.

I grew up in Minnesota, where we “know from” snow. (Though we do not say that we “know from” anything; that is New Yorkers who do that. But I digress…)

People often wrongly assume many things about people who grew up in a wintry climate. They assume that the person is probably glad not to be living in a wintry climate anymore. (Wrong!) They assume that winter is a terrible thing (Wrong again!) They assume that winter driving presents no challenge for these people. (Really wrong! Trust me on this: winter driving is challenging for anyone who is trying to stay on the road. If you’re driving on snowy, icy roads and you think you’ve got it all under control, you’re probably not being careful enough. So be more careful!!! Tip: The way to be the most careful of all is not to drive in snow and ice if you don’t have to…)

Anyway. This week was a very wintry week across most of northern France. There was real snow, and real cold (though not as much of either as there often can be in, you know: Minnesota 🙂 ) And since I didn’t have to drive anywhere, I quite enjoyed it.

I particularly enjoyed watching the birds gather around my bird feeder. They were more interested than usual in the seeds and other treats I had put out for them this week. And it was fun to watch them hopping around, enjoying a little bit of this, a little bit of that…then flying away. I had to sneak up on them to get any pictures at all (like the one above). So it became a kind of game, a nice little break from whatever else I was doing, many times a day…

I didn’t take the time to photograph their “happy tracks” until today, four days after the snow first fell. So the trail of their joyful hopping around is not as clear as it was the first day. But you can see that they had a lot of fun, can’t you?

I’ll be back sometime soon to report on other things. In the meantime, stay safe, stay well, wherever you are. Prenez soin de vous…et a la prochaine!

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.”

February 14, 2021 at 5:12 pm Leave a comment

January in Essoyes…2021

As I write this post, another snow is drifting down from the sky, softly falling over trees, fields, and houses. It is a lovely sight.

In France confusion over what to do about the pandemic reigns. In my opinion, the government is trying as hard as it can to figure out what to do as the plateau of new cases that was holding steadily for a while (but not declining) begins to creep up, and worries about the new strains of COVID that are appearing here and in other European countries are added to the list of concerns. So far they have not been able to take the kind of decisive action that would make everyone feel if not better, at least less uncertain about what comes next.

But can you blame them? In addition to a rather sluggish pace of the vaccine becoming available, they are dealing with on the one hand approximately 60 percent of the French population that is very suspicious of vaccines, and on the other hand (I suppose about 40 percent of the population) complaining that the government is not moving fast enough to get the vaccine distributed. The other day President Macron did a bit of complaining himself, by protesting that it’s impossible to deal satisfactorily with a nation of “66 million prosecutors.” 🙂 Though he was obviously overstating the case, I can kind of see his point. I think he’s trying. I think the Minister of Health, Olivier Véran is trying also. I think pretty much everyone involved in trying to do something about the pandemic is doing the best they can…

What can I say? The French themselves know that they are a nation of complainers (and yes, sometimes they kind of complain about it 🙂 ). So…plus ca change, plus c’est la même chose….

Apparently the next decision will be announced on Wednesday, so then we will all know more exactly what to complain about, and what the next weeks hold in store. A reconfinement is widely anticipated, but we’ll just have to wait a few more days to know if indeed there will be a reconfinement, and if so what the terms of it will be.

I watched the inauguration of our new President from here, and chose to watch French television coverage of it rather than American. I always find it interesting to follow important developments and events in the U.S. through a French lens. One of the small details noted over here was that there was an awkward delay in the opening of the doors to the White House when the Bidens arrived there. According to the New York Times in an article written the day after the inauguration, the doors are usually opened for the new president by Marine guards. It’s not clear who finally opened the doors this time, but the French journalists watching the event live certainly noticed the awkwardness of the moment, and one of them guessed that in the end Biden opened the doors himself. This would fit into the general view of Americans as perfectly capable of blowing protocol aside when the moment calls for it. 🙂

I would say that overall the reaction over here to the new administration is at the very least great relief. The President of the EU was quoted as saying that she was looking forward to having “a friend” in the White House who could work with Europe on fighting climate change, quashing the COVID-19 pandemic and rebuilding multilateralism. No need to think too hard about what really was being implied there…

And so, it was with great joy (and relief) that I and millions of other Americans, along with citizens of many other countries, watched the peaceful (though hardly gracious) transfer of power take place in the end after all. President Biden has his work cut out for him…here’s wishing him the strength, courage, and commitment to get it done, and done well.

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.”

January 24, 2021 at 5:42 pm 2 comments

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