At Home in Brittany

Another Fine Mess in Brittany

Catching sight of a new, shiny, spotlessly clean septic tank (fosse-septic) being installed at a neighbour’s house recently, brought back vivid memories of what happened when the time came for us to empty ours.

It was only a year after we had settled into our country life when we were reliably informed by an expert (a farmer who had lived since time began in a nearby farm) that it was overdue for la vidange (emptying). As it transpired he was right.

 The following morning in the bathroom the toilet refused to flush away its contents.

“It must be blocked,” my husband said throwing me an accusing look.

Later that day gloved and goggled he and our son approached the “very green area” at the rear of the house where the inspection lid was located.  It was a very inopportune time to have a sanitary problem as my parent had chosen this particular moment to have a little holiday with us; preferably in contemplative tranquillity. 

French Bank Holidays - Stumbling In The Dark

We stumbled across our first national holiday in France on “le quatorze juillet”; as every French citizen will tell you, is known as Bastille Day which marks the start of the French Revolution. The fourteenth of July is the anniversary of the storming of the Bastille in Paris in 1789 and is still celebrated (not with decapitation in honour of Monsieur Guillotine) but with a military parade along the Champs Elysées and the awarding of the “Légion d’honneur” created by Napoleon Bonapart.

 

Waking up the morning after our arrival in Brittany we soon realised on visiting our village for the obligatory baguette, we were unlikely to be able to purchase anything; let alone our daily bread. The village was completely deserted and all the little shops firmly closed and sealed. But, all was not lost for all over France local councils arrange celebrations for the 14^th July and our little village was no exception. There was a bonfire, fireworks and dancing late into the early hours of the following morning; not forgetting of course we are in France where good food is never far away. And of course no celebration is complete without champagne.

 

Breton Farmers in Touch with the Land

I am very lucky to live within a close farming community in Brittany, taking me back to my family roots and the many happy years I spent balanced on the edge of my father’s tractor in the Surrey countryside. I suppose it was this yearning for the days of my youth that in part led us to buy a farmhouse in a rural community.

 

Shortly after our move to Brittany in 2002 we decide the best way to meet our neighbours was to hold a small evening soiree and set about sending out invitations to everyone living in our hamlet, a high percentage of which are farmers. Not surprisingly they were all inquisitive to meet the strange English people who had bought the old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere! We sent out 12 invitations and within no time the prospective attendees had grown to 23 due mainly to the various ‘accidental’ meetings with tractor roadblocks and casual enquiries about the forthcoming soiree.

 

Breton Dancing Classes

It has been said that in everyone there is a budding Fred Astaire or Ginger Rogers waiting to be discovered. So what better way to release this potential than to participate in a bit of Breton dancing, with the added bonus of getting fit? I regret I am no Fred Astaire, but do enjoy having a go and being hurled around the floor by some substantially built Breton farmers wife can be quite exhilarating. 

 

In Brittany nearly every village has a Breton dancing club that meet regularly in the local ‘salle des fêtes’, village hall. The member’s skills range from beginner to professional and newcomers are always welcome. An annual membership fee of around 30 to 40 euros will cover the cost of weekly lessons which usually last about two hours. It is a great way to meet people from the loca l community and get involved in the many dances held throughout the year.

 

Most Breton dances involve step patterns performed as a group and there are similarities with Line Dancing. Dances often involve large groups of people forming a circle linked by their arms or small fingers, stepping in time to the music. The dances are performed to traditional Breton music, produced by a range of musical instruments, many originating from the music’s Celtic origins.

 

The most notable of these instruments is the Bombard; this is a conical-bore double-reed instrument similar to the oboe. It is a "lip reed" instrument, having an exposed double reed played directly in the mouth. The bombard has been in use since the 15th century and is often accompanied by Breton bagpipes. I think it is fair to say that the music may not be to everyone’s taste as it can be rather shrill.

 

Throughout the year regular dances are held in local villages, often during religious festivals and include a picnic style sit-down meal, these are called ‘Fest Noz’. After the meal guests are invited to dance to the accompaniment of a small local music group. It can be great fun and unlike the UK there is no reticence from the attendees to participate in the dancing. I am always amazed at the fitness of the elderly Bretons who can really whirl around the dance floor.

 

Closely associated with Breton dancing are the ‘Cercle Celtique’ groups who are amateur groups who participate in regional Breton dancing competitions throughout the summer months. These groups compete in full Breton costume reflecting the particular region or Celtic connection.

 

Through July and August Brittany comes alive with dance and music festivals, the largest Celtic festival in the world being Lorient's Festival Interceltique. http://www.festival-interceltique.com/index_en.php We attended this with our dance group and have to admit, I was amazed at the numbers of people attending, it was like going to see a major pop group at Wembley.

 

So if you are in Brittany this summer keep an eye open for a fest noz and get the feet moving , you will love every minute.

 

 

Making Friends.

Ignoring the Language Barrier.

The French refer to it as ‘l’insertion’ in the UK it is called ‘integration’ and in spite of the term conjuring up a melting pot of different cultures, religions, race and ethics; in practice it is all about ‘making friends.”

Whether you live in the same society all your life or travel from one continent to another we all come in contact with other people we like or less likely (from my own experience)  dislike. The language may be different, the faces are different, the sights, sounds and smells around you are different, but people still have a need to communicate with other people. Bearing that in mind it is relatively easy to make friends and acquaintances regardless of whether you are able to speak French a little or not at all. The French are very accommodating in this respect and patiently listen while we stumble awkwardly over the pronunciations of their words.

Everyday Life in Rural Communities - La Poste

The day rarely passes without a visit from la Poste. This takes the form of a little yellow van on the horizon travelling at, or close to, the speed of light around narrow country lanes and coming to an abrupt halt as close as possible to your letter box. ‘Les boîtes aux letters’ are either freestanding in close proximity to your house or installed in a wall surrounding your garden and the artistic French can even incorporate them into their box hedges; delicately trimming around its façade so the postman will recognise it.

 

You must not expect punctuality from any public service (or anyone else for that matter) so do not set your clocks according to the mail delivery. But what you can expect and come to rely on is a personal service. He will know your name, you will have exchanged greeting and shaken hands and that you have uttered “Bonjour” in the distinctive fashion of  ‘les Anglais’ or in the case of the Welsh, Irish or Scottish; undoubtedly Celtic. This limited amount of information in the course of time will prove sufficient for the delivery of a letter baring only your first name!

 

Once a year before Christmas, there is an extra delivery in the shape of a very informative calendar, (I certainly enjoy reading mine), it comes in the shape of an A5 sized thin hardback book. This year my entertaining “Almanach du Facteur 2009” is embellished on the front and back of its cover with views of Monaco and Southern Corsica. Inside, each page of the month is complimented by colourful diverse snippets of general knowledge and on other pages are found maps of the local area, France and the world. To show our gratitude for the services rendered by our friendly neighbourhood “facteur” the custom in response to receiving this calendar is to give a similar gesture. ‘Les étrennes’ is the equivalent of the British Christmas box but in my experience exercised with more finesse in France.

 

In Brittany, the impression of ‘la Poste’ is a positive one from the point of view of the consumer. The country village post office is quietly efficient and much appreciated by the villagers and the surrounding farmers; so much so that a threat to its closure resulted in a petition to the mayor. On the busiest morning in our village, Saturday when the market arrives on the square in front of the church; people happily filed behind one another to add their signatures to a protest.

 

I am happy to say our little village has managed to keep its traditional post office; which is run by a mature lady who has a charming sense of fashion expressed by a regular change of  her eye catching brightly coloured necklaces. The queues are never too long but one should be prepared; while standing in turn holding a cumbersome parcel, to see a more senior member of the community boldly ignore everyone and stride past you up to the counter.  This action is never challenged and reveals a refreshing insight into French culture which is often overlooked; a respect for their more senior citizens.  

 

There is something reassuring about catching sight of the little yellow post van rolling through the countryside in all weathers to deliver letters, parcels and sundries. It suggests an enduring need of small communities to sustain a treasured way of life and the postman and the postmistress contribute to its continuing existence. “Vive la Poste!”