Nostalgia versus Homesickness

It's the Sunday before Christmas in Xaintrie. Nostalgia is in the air as we hear the  everlasting carols and christmas songs once again on the airwaves. We're more than 500 miles from 'home' (except that we've been able to avoid that expression for some years now. During the first two or three years, the word popped out without warning whenever we talked about the UK, but now it doesn't. At first, you don't notice it, then after a year or two you hear yourself say it and make a mental note to correct it. Finally it becomes automatically the epithet for what has been truly 'home' ever since we arrived over 8 years ago). Does that mean we're 'homesick'?

Personally, no. I don't think I could ever say that I've been homesick since moving to France. Or after moving anywhere in fact; I'm not the type. Nostalgia, however, is another thing altogether in my opinion. I've plenty of that when the opportunity to take a gentle reverie in the past arises. Christmas is particularly evocative of childhood and other earlier-

life memories and is already stirring dormant reminiscences of family gatherings (good and bad), meals and places. In three days' time we'll have the Nine lessons and Carols once again from the chapel of King's College, Cambridge; a key event in my Christmas evocation. Even if I miss the forecast, knowing that it is taking place paints a misty picture for me of the small back 'parlour' of my parents' house on a Christmas eve, grey sky outside the window dripping with the condensed breath of me, my parents and sisters as the coal fire in the grate bravely but barely manages to keep at bay the December dampness and cold just the other side of the window. The shiny brown bakelite wireless is on with the Cambridge choir in full song and I can smell mince pies.

This to me is nostalgia - an affection for the past, not a longing for it which is the true description of homesickness.

Interestingly, there is no French word equivalent for 'homesick', but 'nostalgie' is there all right. There is even a pop music radio station with that name; you can imagine the stuff they play.

Happy Christmas

Mapmaker

Mince Pies and Carols

Yesterday, a unique cultural event took place at the Church of Saint Peter here in Argentat. It was a joint English/French Carol Service, organised to bring together the local community and its English residents in a sing-song, with nativity readings from the Bible by local schoolchildren in the two languages. The children had also been coached into a delightful rendering of 'Away in a Manger', complete with handheld candles, theatrical dimming of the lights. They even sang 'Little Donkey' entirely in English. 

We also had the opportunity to bellow out other carols like 'Once in Royal David's City', 'O Come All Ye Faithful', 'Hark the Herald Angels' and the like to the polite surprise to the French majority of the congregation who had previously thought us a rather reserved lot, full of sang-froid.

Our local Web-Wizz has already set this up on the Argentat website. Click here to see the article and a short slideshow-video of the service. The sound quality is excellent and gives a good idea of what it was like. The article, written by Corinne Escure, is translated, more or less, by me: ...

At the beginning of the autumn, Alice, Sue and Johanna [English and French members of a choral group] proposed to Père Damian [the local priest] that they could organise a traditional English Christmas Carol service. Johanna, teacher and parent at the Jean d'Arc school [in Argentat] also suggested this to the other teachers. They were charmed by this and also by the idea of a cultural event for the two communities [French and English]. Consequently, the schoolchildren started to practise bible readings [in both languages] and carols, to be ready for this unforgettable evening. French and English carols followed one another, the children's voices carrying beautifully in the warmth of occasion. The children carried 'Christingles', decorated oranges with candles, symbolising the Earth and Light - and a moment of sharing with the traditions of Great Britain. After the service, still feeling the charm of the English and French choristers and of the solo by Mr Eyrigoux [he sang 'Silent Night' in French - 'Douce Nuit'], everyone was invited to take mulled wine, mince pies and other patisseries. An evening, we hope, to be only the début of further cultural exchanges!

Then it started to snow. The next morning, Sunday 14th December gave us a real taste of winter - and a traditional Christmas scene:

Real sang-froid has now set-in. Time to stoke up the fire, a little early I admit, with the Yule-logs.

Mapmaker.

It's the 'Telethon' this weekend.  A bit like the 'Pudsey' phenomenon in the UK last month (fund-raising for the  'Children in Need' charity), this one is for the 'Association Française contre les Myopathies', in other words, dedicated to raising money for the French Muscular Dystrophy charity. All over France, people will be doing worthy or silly (or both) things for pledges of cash. 

An English version of the official website gives a flavour of the event.

I wrote the last paragraph last week. Telethon now been and gone along with several more days of my life. I can't understand how these days pass, seemingly at ever increasing speed although it has been one of those weeks stuffed with more social activities than the average...

Notably, December 5th, or 6th (depending on your euro-origins) is the day when the Dutch, in particular, celebrate 'Sinterklaas'. It's a long story, but he's basically the very same 'Santa Clause' or Saint Nicholas or 'Father Christmas' that the rest of us recognise. Last Wednesday was the 5th December and it so happened merry band of friends held another of our 'Entre Deux' meals, this time chez Nini (Nini and Chris's names came out of the hat the time before).

As half of us around the table are Dutch, we did some of the traditional stuff like providing a couple of the 'Black Pete' slaves and writing little poems about one another. I and Chris were persuaded to 'black up' for this(!)

That was last week - now Christmas decorations are up in town and on Saturday there'll be a carol service in the local church. It's going to be a mixed French/English affair; we haven't sung English traditional Christmas Carols for ages so we're looking forward to it. Mince pies and other goodies afterwards.

Joyeuses Fêtes...

Mapmaker

Saint Barbara to the Rescue

Two young 'pompiers' came by the house a couple of days ago with their calendar for 2009. They do this every year, at about this time which is another reminder that winter is setting-in.

The Sapeurs-pompiers is France's fire and rescue service and is largely voluntary for the smaller communes. It is expected that we give a donation for the calendar. We always oblige - you never know when you might need their services and besides, next year is our local brigade's 150th anniversary.  The busy, six-page glossy calendar is full of dramatic scenes

of their derring-do over the past year as well as some homely, family touches such as a large photograph of 'Le petit Luca et son papa, le sergent Jérôme Courcelaud'.

The first page of the calendar is entirely taken with 'mugshots' of the whole brigade; one Chief, 14 other officers down to the rank of 'caporal' and 11 more 'sapeurs, 1st classe'. Out of these 26, four are women. On the last page we are treated to photographs of five more under the title "La section Jeunes Sapeurs-Pompiers" in their uniforms - sort of apprentices or 'cadets', aged form 11 to 16 years. Four out of the five are young women. All this for a town of 3,000 inhabitants. A bit like the scouts, but with some serious hardware to play with. Wikepedia has a description of these cadets and their duties here in English.

A small 'flyer' accompanied the calendar inviting us as residents, to a free knees-up ('Grand Bal Gratuit'. It does sound better in French), in January in the sports hall. The occasion is an address on behalf of the patron saint of pompiers, Sainte Barbe, to be followed by general jollity with dancing - all organised by 'Fred et Lulu'.  Sounds intriguing.

Sainte Barbe  - Saint Barbara was an interesting, albeit shadowy saint in the catholic world. Originally she was prayed-to to protect one from lightning strikes.

Really? Is it worth it, I ask myself. Then again, we get some pretty awesome thunderstorms in these parts at times.

 Anyway, the way she came to be associated with lightning was through a typically tortuous set of circumstances. Her father didn't like the way she was always eyeing the boys so he locked her up in a tower. Having little else to do while she was in there, she somehow learned about christianity and converted to it. From what, I don't know (flirting?). This made her father even madder so he had her tortured.  She held-out against that, so he beheaded her (himself!). It seems that fathers were pretty strict in those days. It makes me feel that I got off lightly when I was smacked - hard, mind you, on the bum by my dad when I wouldn't stop asking for an ice-cream which he was not inclined to buy for me at the time. Ages ago, of course, but luckily not back in Bab's time.

I digress. As soon as Barbara's father had carried out the rather harsh punishment, he was struck by lightning and died. Served him right, you might say. Not for him our modern remedy of a spot of family counselling with a holiday at the seaside for all the family, just to help rekindle those happy earlier days.

After the unfortunate result of this mediaeval family spat, Sainte Barbe then acquired even more admirers and is now the patron saint of lightning-avoiders, architects, geologists, miners, gunners, metallurgists(!) and so on. Anything vaguely related to fire. Which finally brings us to the pompiers - she is well and truly, their guardian angel.

With a list like that, I suppose you could say that it goes some way towards compensating her for a rather heavy-handed bit of scolding from her dad.

Mapmaker