St Aignan

Michael, the very essence of the bread buying man, with his compulsory 2 baguettes

Cooking our supermarche produce on the first night in St Aignan.

One of my favourite streets in St Aignan, maybe for the sign, maybe for the flags, maybe just for the colours, who knows.

Bridge over the Cher, later we found out that this house had been renovated by the same guy who did our house in the square. But it would have been noisy, right next to the bridge.

St Aignan from the park

The square with la Petite Boutique - our house for the week

Sunset over the square

More Fabulous Moments in France

Chateau Valencay - most pretty chateau that we saw in France. This was one we didn't mean to end up at. We went for an afternoon drive after the 'non French railway man' incident and 'world's biggest steak for lunch' and found that it was the one that captivated us the most. I would love to live there. I would love to work there - but only for the weddings. It was the most romantic spot we saw (note - still no ring in finger when we got home, hmm...)

Miss Lilly, who was our unexpected treasure in St Aignan. Where else can you buy a round for 8 people for 12.8 Euro? She spoke no English, I spoke no French (to the point of embarrassment and almost would have been ripped off for 65Euro if she wasn't so nice). We passed 3 evenings (I think) there, one with Ken and Walt and Douglas, the English man who renovated our St Aignan house and was hysterical with stories of the police.

St Aignan Place de Paix on market day. ie, the day we hightailed it out of there. The charcuterie man parked his truck inches from our front door and we sat absorbed through breakfast trying to work out what he was selling (from our breakfast table looking at the wrong side of his truck). St Aignan in the mist, with the church steeple and the markets, is like the apitome of unexpected in France. It was fab to be able to watch the croissant seller set up her wares outside our window, wait for her to get her coffee and tabac and then go 6 steps outside to buy a croissant (keep the change).

Our crappy Paris (the second time) hotel room. Smelly, noisy, down right depressing and disappointing, it had the best window to sit and gawk at passing traffic. This pic was taken while waiting for Jen to arrive (after 1 year apart). We also ended up with Kate and Chris who were unexpected (and hungover) and before we knew it, we knew half the hotel and all the staff.

The strike. Somehow on our third day back in Paris, we ended up at a cafe near Notre Dame, but on the other side of the river, watching the strike march (the first one) walk past. It was more like a stage show than a political exhibition. Music, performance, drums, singing. We sat for an hour an a half, the very first people passing us as we sat down and they were still marching past when we left an hour and a half later. Chris said he was impressed because Paris knows how to protest in style. He was less impressed with the 2 hour tourist bus to get home because the metro had stopped running.

Favourite Memories of France

The amazing Bascilica at Montmartre. We had seen this on the day we arrived back in Paris. There was some kind of concert on in the park on the grounds below the church and people were taking the 'lift' up there - the thing that looks like the scenic railway in the Blue Mountains. It was the most peaceful day we had in France. No traffic, unexpected treasures, cats on the tables in the restaurant. This view is from the commercial side of the square that we discovered by sheer chance.

The last night in France. Kate and Chris were broke and desperate (and full of lunch) by this stage, so we chose somewhere easy to eat, which was this Italian pizza restaurant around the corner from our hotel. The menu was extensive, prices were good and we had a lot of fun. It was the kind of last night hurrah you would want. Dont remember all that much, except that it had the kind of petite toilet wrapped around a pipe (literally) that you can imagine.

The Jetstar jump. I didn't capture it, Jen's camera did. We tried and tried. I counted afterwards that we went to the Trocadero 4 times to try and get a good shot. I was also hoping for some kind of 'special' to hit me. The dudes selling junk Eiffel Towers had really got me cranky and I was hoping for an inspired moment.

Michael and I in the scary pizza restauarnt in Montmatre - the one we ended up at becasue we were talked into it by the dude at the front door. Hilarious, but still a great night catching up with Jen.

My rose on our last night, from the rose seller who came into the wine shop where I was boozing it up at a wine tasting after the 3 bottles at the pizza restaurant. A quick dinner out for our last night, turned into an almost all nighter after Jen volunteered to go and buy the wine from our wine guy across the road who'd been selling us cold bottles with the cork pulled - thank you - all week. So about 10pm I go to find her, she's been gone for about 20mins. I walk into a full on wine tasting. We (the guys in the shop and the shop owner and a very nice guy called 'something french') have a very deep and intensive conversation about the soils in Burgundy and I am allowed to stay. I am offered the Japanese Whisky, but decline (novice spirit drinker). In the meantime, Jen has a teary and we ended up having the weirdest most bizarre conversation we've ever had. It was a good 2 hours of full on, only in Paris after a year apart kind of stuff (Jen - you are a fabulous friend). I still made it back to the wine tasting before they finished, though I passed on the scary follow up thing to the Japanese Whisky and went to bed. 3 hours sleep later, we got up to fly out.

Post France

We got home yesterday from France. We've been travelling since 7:00am Thursday Paris time and finally got home at 4:00pm Saturday afternoon Brisbane time (all the other Eastern States have kicked in Day light Saving). I was overjoyed to be home, mostly because it is very quiet at our house and I can sleep without thinking about what the people in the room next door are doing at 4:00am. However I was still unprepared for the sun which was fully up when I woke at 6:00am this morning, jet lagged. After 2 weeks of France's 8:00am - 8:30am sunrise I was a little stunned.

The week before we left Australia, they burnt off in the area around our house. They told us that they were burning all of the land west of us, towards Laidley and it would be about 500 acres all up. However they didn't tell us when it would be, I just got a phone call one Saturday morning while I was at work saying they were outside our house and were going to start burning stuff.

My major objection to this is that they have not supplied us with nearly as many cows or camels to keep the grass down, nor have they sensibly slashed the grass from the rains we had in Jan / Feb. Therefore they ended up taking the burn to about 6m away from our house instead of the 50m as previously advised.

Our house is not very air tight (we have major inside wind patterns) and the whole house stunk. The night of the burn I got home and there were spot fires all over the hill, which was abit freaky, given that there was no one tending them. Everything glowed and crackled and there was no sleep to be had. When I woke up the next morning choking, my manager decided to put us up in the hotel for the night (great room - but another story). Anyway, I was seriously cranky about the whole thing as I have issues looking at burnt stuff that could have been avoided and for obvious reasons dont like the idea of fire much anyway.

So when we got home yesterday I was shocked to see how much the grass had grown (and pleased). Apparently, while we've ben away we had about 7 inches of rain. The causeways went under and everyone was sent home from work on Monday due to flooding. For the first time in 20 years they have had to let water out of the spillway of Wivenhoe Dam.



So now our issue is not the burnt grass, it is the abundance of grass and the damage that the severe winds have caused the house, bringing down one of our gutters. There is also a sizable crack over our front door from where the house has dropped from the rain settling on that side due to the gutter falling of.

I went for a walk up to our dam to see how full it was and the spillway was still running over in a constant stream. Last time it flooded, it roared, which was a little scary at night to come home and hear was sounded like gushing water in an canyon.

As I had picked up the kitties this morning, they have been needy meowers all day and followed me up there for a walk ( I swear, they are more like dogs every day).

The dam was only a few feet from the top of the wall, which was being controlled by the spillway but there were also signs of flooding heading up the side of the dam so I wondered how much rain we've actually had (before we left we had good rain, but the dam was probably down to 40%).

I snapped a few pics and the kitties and I revelled in the silence and calm. It has been a good few weeks, but I am so glad not to hear any motorbikes or smell any stinky cigars outside my window. I am not cut out for living in cities at all and am dreading when we next have to move as we will never be so lucky again to get a place like this.

While we've been gone they have hired a new GM (Grace has gone) and my assistant has resigned.

And where was Michael today during these adventures? The poor thing has caught some bug off the plane or from the food in the airport in Sydney and has been in bed sick all day.

France - Paris Part 1

View from our Paris apartment. Main feature providing thrills was the tiny elevator which claimed it held 3 people, but actual only holds 2 people holding baguettes. Also on the highlights were the spiral staircase (a beauty to behold) and the electric toilet (a challenge to the jet lagged person, but nifty and efficient).

Metro sign - the metro was so convenient and efficient, compared to trying to get around by road. Only problem was that is is at least 10 degrees warmer down there so dressing each day must accommodate whether or not the metro will or will not be used.

Under the glass pyramid at the Louvre were we fought to get to Mona, setting off at a cracking pace behind Alysia, only to find that once we'd seen Mona behind her 17 thousand inches of glass, we could not find our way out again. Ahh, ended up in crazy labyrinth like staircases resembling Esher pictures where we had no idea where we were or what we were looking at. Fun but no good to the feet.

The Eiffel Tower, whose main feature these days is the men selling miniature Eiffel towers who run off every time the police come by but are not scared by the army men with automatic guns who are patrolling the major sites in case of terrorists. Still, a few great pictures, especially when you catch an unexpected glimpse through trees when you are looking for something else entirely.

Michael in his new beret and mum in her new red tourist hat (as only tourists seem to wear them) but essential for chilly weather.

The exam

The pins - the red one was for the first exam the the blue for the second.

Last week was the dreaded exam. It actually started the week before with the first part in Brisbane for two days, then the lucky people who did well were invited to go to Melbourne to do the second part.

I've been studying pretty hard. At least two hours a night every night for the last 3 months, or more when I miss a night. I have purchased new textbooks, I have purchased (and consumed) all sorts of wine in order to prepare for the exam.

What was this dreaded exam? The first part was an Introductory Level Sommelier exam run by the Court of Master Sommeliers. It was not as hard as the version I did several years ago, but maybe thats just experience. The second part was the actual exam to become a certified sommelier (ie the right to call yourself a fancy title).

I was pretty nervous and the night before I was due to go to Brisbane I came down with some funky flu that left me sweating and delirous and popping all the cold and flu tablets I could get.

By the time I got to the course I was bit of a wreck and thought I wasn't going to get through. The next two days were spent being lectured to a marathon pace. Italy was covered by a snappy New Yorker who spoke faster than the ears could comprehend, and the way the place names rolled off his tongue was magical. It did not help one bit with the exam but it was a wonder to behold that someone could be that comfortable with the wines of Italy that they did not have to stop for breath.

The rest of the proceedings went much the same way. I was pretty happy that most of the stuff being covered was very familiar from my study, so I sat back and just listened (pity the poor person who came expecting to actually learn and absorb something).

The worst part was the wines. We all had to stand up with a microphone and talk about an aspect of each of the 22 wines that were tasted over the two days. When it came to my turn I had to speak about the appearance and nose of a specific white wine. I had no nose to use, I had no legs to stand on (I was dizzy as anything from all that sniffing and tasting and spitting on top of all the cold and flu tablets). So I piked out and handed the mic on and stumbled out to the bathrooms.

The next day I did much better, I stood up and did the final sum up on a left bank Bordeaux from 2006. I dont think I have actually ever tasted a left bank Bordeaux from 2006, but it turns out my guesses are pretty good.

We watched a half hour demonstration of the proper steps of service and had a quick discussion about the kinds of things that we would be expected to learn for the next exam. I freaked out and decided there and then that if I was allowed to progress to the next stage I would turn it down.

Later that afternoon we had the first exam, 70 multiple choice questions in 45 minutes. I turned over the page, I took it slow, I made sure I was happy with each answer before I moved on and I did not go back to check or change my mind (as this is the falling down of girls who take multiple choice exams). I finished it in 7 minutes and was the only person to leave the room. I panicked - had I gone too fast, was I too careless?

When they read out the people who had passed I was holding my breath. They got to the last three certificates and said "these people have done the best in the class", they gave one to each of my two wine reps from work. I was crushed, I thought - OMG, I should have gone back and checked my answers. The last certificate was in their hand and they said, " this person has topped the class with the highest mark". They called my name. I just about died from relief.

I was surrounded by people shaking my hand and all I could think of was "bugger, no way am I going to get out of going to Melbourne now". With a huge smile on my face but terror in my heart I caught the lift down to the lobby, shutting the lift doors on a poor guy who was running for it, I called my mum. As you do. And had a meltdown.

I found Michael, we headed for Borders, I purchased every book I could find on cocktails, vintages and spirits. I sincerely believed I would find time in the next 2 days to read 7 books, all on topics I hadn't bothered to study in the lead up to the first exam. In short, after a quickie dinner at a sushi train, we went back to our hotel room and I studied some more. We drove home at midnight because the Friday night partiers were distracting me.

The next day I went into work and promptly told Grace that if she did not send me home I would have no option but to sit at my desk and cry. I worked for 8 hours over the whole weekend, doing the bare minimum to get them through the next week when I would be away.

I spent the rest of my time sitting at my desk and making flashcards and reading cocktail books and silently freaking out. I changed my mind 8 or 9 times every hour as to whether I should get a doctor's note to allow me to back out of the exam or not (I was still pretty sick, so felt justified). The worst part was on Sunday night, before I had to fly to Melbourne, when I actually just sat in my room and cried because I just did not know what to do. I have never in my whole life been so stressed out. The cap off was when I read some guy's blog about when he failed the test in California. He sounded like he knew what he was doing and he still failed.

Monday was a blur of planes and buses and the security of my hotel room. I watched Sex in the City 2 because I was too distracted to study. I lost my voice. I went out and bought sushi and KFC chips and a cupcake. I did not know myself like this.

Tuesday morning, awake at 5. Got dressed, walked to the Crown for the first and second part of the 3 part exam. Got there an hour early and watched all the other jittery people arrive. There were 4 girls in this round (6 in the last round) and 26 guys.

We started with a blind tasting (it was worst than blind because I couldn't smell - what do you call that when you lose your smell?). Then a 40 question exam, both the tasting and exam within 45 minutes. I stayed until the end. I checked and rechecked my answers.

Then the wait for the last part, I had an hour and a half to kill before my turn for the service part. I practiced my recommendations with one of the other girls. We took turns asking about the ingredients in all the cocktails we had to learn. She rememebered a Negroni and I remembered a Tom Collins as our recommendations for an appretif.

They called us in.

My examiner was the man who wrote the textbook. I felt safe with him because I had had lunch with him at the Brisbane exam.

My first task was to open a bottle of champagne. And guess what - the cork would not come out. Not for anyone or anything. The examiner finally came over to help me and he had to use some crazy muscles to get the cork out (I felt abit better).

I carried 8 filled champagne glasses around a table without dropping them (apparently lots of people lose marks on this as they drop them). He asked me what was in a Negroni and I silently thanked my lobby friend for learning that cocktail. About 2 minutes later I walked out of the room. I had no idea how I had done but as soon as it was over I felt relief. Thats all.

I had a six hour wait until the results. I treated myself to lunch and a make over at the DJ's make up counters. I purchased a book (it was not on wine). I walked round and round the city in my suit and just felt relief.

When it was time to get the results we were kept waiting again, and again they did the slow torturous read out of names. They called my name about half way through the list. All I could think of was "thank you thank you and thank you" and relief - that it was over and I'd have my life back and that I can finally justify all the years and cost of study.

That night I went to celebrate with some old friends in Melbourne. My first drink was a lemonade - and it tasted fabulous.

The world's biggest and humpiest cow

This morning, driving down to the front gate on my way to work, I was comfronted, for the first time in weeks, by our whole herd of cows.
They were all over the road, just determined to wait until the last minute to skidaddle. I blame my concentration on the road by the fact that I almost missed what I saw next.

I glanced across to the big tree where some of the cows were munching on, and I said to myself, gee, thats a pretty big cow.

A second glance confirmed it, yes it was a big one.

The third glance told - no, its not a cow, its a camel.

My first reaction was not what you'd expect actually. I didn't think, gee - its a long way from the desert for a camel, or who brought their camel over and dumped it at our place. I've been fascinated by the camels that live on property and was tickled that one had found its way across the property (all 12000 acres of it) to our house.

As you can see, he was doing a pretty good job of blending in with the cows and we hope he sticks around, as it is bit of excitement, and really, how many people can say that they have a camel in their front yard?