Friday, 28 April 2017 to Thursday, 4 May 2017
The sun was out today, but a weak one at that. It was still a miserable 9°C outside this morning, too cold for my skin; I had to cover up with a layer or two, and that was inside. But the cold weather during the last week had been a blessing in disguise; it allowed me to catch up with the blogging. This morning I posted the latest blog and am now back on track, barring the very last week.

The day stayed frozen, we stayed home, we even stayed in for supper even though it was Friday. Adri made some frikkadelle (meat balls) today with the beef mince we bought a while back. So, supper tonight was a hamburger of sorts, let’s call it a baguette meatball burger with slices of fresh tomato and onions, gherkins, cheese, mustard, ketchup and mayonnaise. Of course there were frites as well; else this thing could not be called a burger.

Trump’s first 100 days in office was over, and oh dear, not much was accomplished. Today Trump said he thought his job would be easier, now who would have thought that! Oh, and he also missed his old life, now who would have thought that!

In another article a GOP strategist Rick Wilson said that people voted for “A hyper-confident negotiator, a wheeler-dealer mogul”, but that “The real Donald Trump is a 70-year-old man who inherited a bunch of money who’s been bankrupt four times and who basically turned into a branding company.… He’s intellectually sloppy and temperamentally unsuited for the job.” And that’s what strategists from his own party says. Now who would have thought that!

The last few days had been bitterly cold, but it’s an icy wind that raged that made the relative temperate temperatures feel so cold. It funnels down the streets, through bone and brain, and then wanders out to the ocean where it whips up the sea into an angry grey, frothing at the mouth. And Saturday was no different.

Sometime during the day I received an email from Didier, teaching me about the ways of the weather. He wrote “So now you experienced our cold north wind!!!! Bringing cold and feeling freezing”. And this all reminded me of that beautiful song by Chris de Burgh called Lonely Sky that also makes mention of a cold French north wind called “La Bise”. I’m certainly glad we missed that one!

The cold north wind they call “La Bise”
Is swirling round about my knees,
Trees are crying leaves into the river;
I’m huddled in this French cafe
I never thought I’d see the day,
But winter’s here and summer’s really over,

Be as it may, it seems that this cold weather will be with us for a while still. Didier continued his weather lesson advising of the ice saints that cometh. The ice saints, St Pancras, St Servatius and St Mamertus were so named from the traditional belief that their feast days, celebrated on 11, 12 and 13 May respectively, bring freezing weather with them. So, now we’re bracing ourselves for when the saints go marching in. And after that… we will hopefully finally have summer on our side again.

Just for the record, I’m not particularly fond of winter, and this winter was not forced upon us, we actually had a choice in the matter. Having spent almost two years in Thailand – with its wonderful tropical weather – we had almost forgotten what winter was. And so it was that we decided to reacquaint ourselves with winter and to experience February in Serbia. And that was great, but I only signed up for one month of winter, how was I to know it was going to last well into May?

But, winter does bring with it a certain charm. Sometimes it’s just nice to snuggle up in bed with a hot chocolate and a good book, or dress warmly to walk outside to feel the feeble sun on your face. Having said that, I am so ready for summer.

Shortly before we came to Europe I asked René on Koh Samui whether he does not sometimes miss the first-worldedness of Europe – he is from the Netherlands – and he replied with an emphatic “No!” Asked about the reason, the simple answer was “The weather”. And now I know what he meant.

Sunday I woke up and at 07:30 and it was just getting light. I woke up at 09:30 and it was just getting light. Huh? And then I remembered the forecast for today, it was heavily overcast with rain in the afternoon.

I stumbled out of bed to greet the day, opened the French doors and was nearly blown backwards. Admittedly it wasn’t quite that bad but the wind was pumping down the alleyways and the sky was grey, and to my right the sea was darker, a sickening grey. The wind was pomping (pumping) puppies purple!

I turned to my not-always-so-trusty Apple weather app and noticed that it was 13°C out, wind ESE at 29 km/h, temperature feeling like 11°C. I also noticed a signal that I guess represented a swirling wind, starting at 12:00. I started preparing the coffee and when the caffeine clouds plucked me into consciousness I noticed that I was preparing coffee with the last morsels of our stock. And that finally woke me up and I realized that we had neither baguette nor bread in the house, this was a catastrophe.

It was 10:30 when we cut our coffee time short to stock up on stuff before the supposed storm hit us at 12:00. Dressed warmly we felt overdressed once we hit the street, it was not that cold and also the wind was not as cold as we thought it might be. Walking along the canal to Monoprix we saw a strange phenomenon, there were dolphins cajoling up and down the canal. On closer inspection though it was far less remarkable; swimmers in their grey wetsuits were either exercising or in a race of some sorts, seeming to swim with monofins, doing a kind of dolphin move though the water.

I was looking for Carte Noire filter coffee which is supposed to be pretty good, but Monoprix was fresh out of coffee… all coffee it seemed. I walked the aisles three times and could not find any. On my fourth circuit I checked both side of each aisle and would you believe, they had overnight moved the coffees and teas to the opposite rack. Why do they do this to me?

On the way back home we stopped off at our boulangerie and although there is always a queue, today the queue was out of control and out the door! There are many bakeries around but this one always draws the crowds, and it’s no wonder, their stuff and especially those baguettes are just the best.

 

 

The wind was picking up by the time we reached home and we were thankful to be there, now we could settle in for the day and watch the weather spectacle unfold, if there was one indeed. It was past 12:00 when the real wind arrived and blew a hooley most of the day. We rested and relaxed for the rest of the day, only fools would be caught outside.

The sun was shining its 12°C rays down on us Monday morning, keeping the clouds at bay, but only just. The wind had died during the night but left a still strong breeze in its wake to look after its interests. Everything just looks and feels better in sunshine, don’t you think? It was around 11:00 when the clouds got the better of the rays, but it was still 13°C and scheduled to go up to 17°C later in the day.

After yoga and a breakfast of cornflakes I got stuck into blogging and published the very latest post at 15:40, now I was fully up to date. I needed a reward and the only one worthy of this achievement was a beer, any beer, anywhere. I had for a while now wanted to take a walk to the Pointe Courte area at the northern end of Séte but the weather had not been our friend in this endeavour. Although it was still rather fickle, at 16:00 it seemed okay for a stroll to Pointe Courte 2km away.

On the way we thought it prudent to obtain the required revenue stamps for OFII which can be obtained from any tobacconist shop. But, apparently not, the first one we walked into did not do this type of business. The second one was very helpful and produced the goods as requested and an eye-watering amount to me – and a mouth-watering amount to OFII – of €500 worth of timbres de revenus (revenue stamps) exchanged hands. As I entered the pin code of my credit card I was hoping that someone was paying off this card else it will soon come to a grinding, and may I say, an embarrassing halt.

With a few pricey pieces of paper in my pocket we continued on to Pointe Courte. As we crossed the bridge over the canal we got ready to cross the road but a friendly old lady pointed us down the steps to a pathway that leads under the bridge to Pointe Courte. Without this lady’ unasked assistance we would still be searching, on a road to nowhere.

 

Pointe Courte is a very small area – about eight by four really small city blocks – caught between the road to Montpellier and the Étang de Thau, the lagoon that lies to the north of Séte. It is rather quaint and pleasant for a gentle stroll. There was one restaurant doing brisk business but I assume that in high season the canal side of this area would be filled with little makeshift restaurants pandering to the swarms of tourists.

 

Having walked though and around the area, we heard music further up, so we walked in that direction to turn up the volume. We came upon a small open area next to the water where a band was performing French pop music of sorts. In that arrangement was an odd selection of guitar, violin, cello and drum box, all electrified. Tables and chairs were scattered around the area, at the one end was a makeshift bar that sold Heineken bière pression (draft beer) and wine from a box. The beer was good, the wine apparently also.

And the band played on while an icy wind was blowing off the water creating havoc with anyone’s beer or wine that was left unattended, wasting it for no particular reason.

An older gentleman walked in and he had the hallmarks of a real country guy Frenchman. That moustache, you see, was a dead giveaway, it was huge. Starting beneath his nose and running along his cheek, it meets up with his ears on either side in a grey white swoosh. It was thick and greyish white… seems like where he ran out of moustache he continued it with his beard, shaved in just the right way. As I’ve said, it was huge. I contemplated taking a picture but I was not sure whether that moustache would have appreciated the invasion of its privacy. I have though included a file photo for illustration purposes!

 

The guitarist was very chatty between each song of which we obviously understood very little. At one point I could make out two words, chemise (shirt) and froid (cold). I coloured in the rest of the sentence and came to the conclusion that he only had a shirt on and was getting cold. My interpretation proved to be correct when someone brought him a long thick coat and hung it over his shoulders. And the music played on… The icy blustery wind was now turning nasty so we finished up our drinks and strolled back home.

Tuesday the cloud cover kept it dark until late. It was only after 11:00 that the sun showed itself from time to time. The moment the sun takes a peek the world immediately seems warmer, the moment it disappears all seems dull and grey and miserable. There was an intermittent drizzle that kept the roads just wet. And the ice saints have not even arrived yet!

We had a breakfast of baguette, eggs, fried tomato and onions with oodles of Coulommiers cheese, which is similar to brie and Camambert. There was also Comté cheese which is a harder type of cheese with a pleasantly strong taste which reminds one of mature cheddar, just better.

Now that I was up to date with the blogging it was time to get up to date with admin… oh, but where to begin. And my age-old mantra of “Just start!” kicked in and I … just started.

I got quite a few admin items out of the way and then my to-do-list came upon an item that I dreaded, a follow-up with MTN regarding my sim that was so dood soos ‘n mossie (as dead as a sparrow). Emails to MTN go unanswered and their helpdesk numbers assume that you will be phoning from an MTN mobile phone, but… but… Grr…

My MTN sim has not been able to connect to any network since April 2016, apparently when MTN decided to cancel its Pay As You Go roaming agreements with all Thailand’d mobile network operators. I tried again to get connected when we I arrived in France, where roaming agreements are definitely in place, but still came up short with a “no service” proudly displayed on my handset.

Searching the web I finally found an MTN landline which I could call from Skype. This was obviously not a helpdesk number but the friendly lady connected me to it. The helpdesk operator advised that there was nothing wrong with my Pay As You Go (PAYG) number, she will reset it for me on the network, I had to wait five minutes, switch my phone off and on and it should work just fine. I did, it did not.

I phoned the helpdesk again and was advised by another operator that my PAYG number was deactivated on 30/04/2017 (two days ago) due to it not being used. “But I could not use it because you cancelled the roaming agreements!!” I fumed in silence. The lady was actually very helpful though, but sadly there was nothing she could do for me. When a number is deactivated, it gets recycled and down the line some silly sod will be sitting with my line. She suggested though that I email their complaints section, something I have done often but it’s a task in futility, it’s useless, it’s a black hole. Having said that, I took the time to formulate a rather restrained email, sent if off, so let’s see what happens.

I am sure everybody that ever watched House Of Cards thoroughly enjoyed it and it seems like the latest instalment, Season 5, will be released on 30 May 2017, which I am rather looking forward to. I always thought this series was a true original so you can imagine my surprise when I found the real original that this series was based upon, the British House Of Cards dating back to the early 1990s. We obviously started watching it and if you enjoyed the American series I am certain that – although it is a bit dated – you will love the British original.

While reading the news I came upon the following link on the CNN website which reminded me of just how much SA has to offer, take a look at these stunning pictures.

I also stumbled upon an older article on The Guardian website which reported that France became the first country in the world to ban supermarkets from throwing away or destroying unsold food – since February 2016, shops must donate wastage to food banks or charities. Should this not have been law in every country across the world since like decades ago? Good on you, France, Vive La France!

As you know by now, Wednesday is market day in Séte and everyone seems to congregate there, so why not us? That question was answered when I locked the door of the apartment at around 11:00 and we took a walk down to the market 500m away.

Before going to the market we however had to first check into our favourite copy shop for a few things we needed printed for our OFII visit tomorrow. Four PDF documents were printed off my data-stick without fuss, meagre money changed hands, and five minutes later we entered the market across the road.

The sun was out, everybody was out, it was a glorious day albeit with a nip in the air. We usually start our seriously slow stroll at the one end of the fresh produce part of the market and wind our way along up to where it ends with the start of the clothing and general goods market. Today was no exception. The tables along the way were laden heavy with the freshest veggies of numerous kinds. There were artichoke, tomato, green beans, bunches of asparagus, potato, aubergine, onion, leeks and lettuce, avocado, cucumber, mushroom, radish, shallot, zucchini or courgette, the list goes on. Fruit wise there were strawberry, apple, banana, loads of cherries, oranges, pears, apricots and more.

The line of veggie stalls along the way are interrupted by cheese, meat, pastry and freshly prepared food stalls. Today there was even a coffee stall that sells the most deliciously smelling roasted coffee beans. Surely next week we will partake in that. Behind the stalls are numerous little restaurants where people sit and sip their espressos, watching the world and the people go by, now that looked relaxing. Surely next week we will partake in that.

Where the fresh produce market ends there is a rather large stall with all sorts of chocolates, sweets, packaged cakes and cookies and such. I dipped into a basket of chocolates and the friendly old lady next to me gestured that she wanted to inspect my purchases. I found this rather odd but decided to indulge the old girl. She whirled that slab of chocolate around, shook her head at me and pointed to the expiry date, it was late 2016. She reached into that same basket and presented me with a few perfectly legitimately dated slabs of chocolate.  I thanked her profusely; one never knows what type of worms or vermin lurk in those expired slabs.

At 12:00 the market’s siren started wailing, it was time for the stall owners to pretend that they’re starting to pack up their stuff, but this packing process can take up to an hour or more. This was when we grabbed some strawberries, green beans and zucchini, the latter for supper tonight, the former to be had for dessert with ice cream… Oh, and that reminded me, we were fresh out of ice cream.

So we were off to Monoprix for vanilla ice cream and a few other odds and ends after which it was home time and time to finalise our documentation for the OFII tomorrow.

After yesterday’s run-in with MTN I have, of course, not heard anything back, not even an automated email acknowledgment. I forwarded that same message to the same address again, and also sent it off to another customer service email address I found. I’m waiting, but not in suspense, I will certainly be surprised if I actually get a response, heaven forbid a positive one?

And while this was still playing on my mind I thought it good to insert and activate the local Orange Pay As You Go sim that I bought a few weeks back. I removed that useless MTN thingy and replaced it with the newly minted Orange sim and it was activated in seconds. At least now I am contactable on my phone 24/7 and not just when I’m hooked up to wifi.

It was 05:30 on Thursday when the alarm went off; it was 06:30 when we hit the wet road with parapluie (umbrella) opened up and all, there was a light drizzle, just enough to be uncomfortable. I don’t think I’ve ever owned an umbrella, let alone used one. Oh, now I remember, I had a Heineken tattooed umbrella which was tossed in the boot of my car, never used it, where is it…?

We ordered our tickets from the machine, we were on time for the 07:13 TER train to Montpellier, but the departures screen did not indicate the platform.  It did however indicate that the train was 15 minutes late. I was contemplating going to the information desk but noticed that le connard (the asshole) from the other day was there and he was seule (alone), so there was no mate of his there to hold me back and/or assist.

We proceeded to platform D instead where the TGV to Montpellier was expected next, and thus we thought the TER would go there as well. As the TGV pulled up the masses got on, we were left seule. I showed the train manager our tickets and she gestured with a nod of the head to the second class carriage. I took that as a yes and we boarded as the doors were closing in around us. Even though there were many seats open, people stood in the holding area of the carriage or sitting on the steps to the upper level, so we joined the fray. Seems like this is what you do if you’re not supposed to be on the train, you just don’t take a seat… But don’t take my word for it.

Twenty minutes later we arrived in Montpellier and 10 minutes later we were at the radiology centre for our X-Rays. Twenty minutes later we left with our bagged rays, off to the OFII office located right across the road from the rail station.

The doors opened at 08:30 and there was a mass entrance to the lift to the first floor. We managed to get onto the second load. The security guard pointed us in the wrong direction; the lady at reception pointed us in the right direction.

“Ah, monsieur Joubert!” the friendly chap behind the counter exclaimed, obviously appreciating my French heritage, took our papers, passports and X-Rays, and after shuffling everything into a different order he requested that we wait in the waiting room along with the rest of the mob.

Fifteen minutes later we were called out and into a room for a medical. We were asked our height and weight, then read some letters off the wall after which we moved to the next room. There we were asked about our medical history such as operations, diseases, vaccinations and the like, with the doctor making copious notes.

She then flicked Adri’s X-Ray onto the screen, studied it and gave her opinion of “Good”. I received an opinion of “Okay”. When I queried this assessment she said “Okay, good”. Medication? No. Smoke? No. Adri then pointed to me and piped up “He drinks beer”. I countered with a “Only one a day”. She looked at me, smiled and said “This is necessary!” I liked this gal.

We were back in the waiting room for another 10 minutes, called into another office where the final deed was done. Passport, proof of accommodation, documents we received from OFII as well as the revenue stamps were handed over. In return we received a Certificat De Controle Medical which is essentially a certificate that states that we meet the medical/sanitary conditions to be allowed to live in France.

Also, affixed into our passports, were our residency permits which are valid until mid March 2018, i.e. until the expiry date of the Long Stay Visa. So, just to recap, in December we were issued with a one year Long Stay Visa which is initially valid for a stay of three months, and only once you go through the process we had just completed, the visa becomes valid for the total duration it was issued for. So, now we were legal residents of France.

It was exactly 10:00 when we walked out of the OFII offices with broad grins. It was too early to really celebrate, “You know what I’m saying”, as Will from Fresh Prince of Bel-Air would have said. Man, I loved that show.

For now we celebrated with an espresso and a burger at McDonalds – yes I know, but it was right around the corner – and got hooked up to their excellent wifi, life was good.

The weather was still dark and miserable and we were contemplating going home but Adri wanted to walk around the Polygone shopping centre. Once there we agreed to meet an hour later and I was off to FNAC to check out their electronic stuff.

While checking out the goods I will admit to listening in on a conversation between a husband and wife, I even moved a few inches closer to get a better listen, purely because I could understand what they were saying. The Dutch lady came from somewhere to tell her husband she was still going to be a while because “De klere daar oorkant is fabulous” (The clothes over there are fabulous). It felt good to understand talk on the street, for once.

It was around this time that I received an sms from Didier to check whether we were still in Montpellier. He had just finished a game of tennis, was going for a shower and he would meet us in 30 minutes. Thirty minutes later Adri found the two of us having a beer at the pub in the mall.

 

 

Right behind the Polygone shopping centre is the Antigone area that was developed with a Roman theme in mind, the brainchild of mayor Georges Frêche in 1977 who initiated the building of this area that lies between the Polygone centre and the River Lez. This area also houses the beautiful Montpellier public pool. Didier showed us the area pointing out interesting titbits as we wound our way to the river. I could just imagine on a warm sunny summer’s day all the cafes and restaurants filled to capacity all around, spilling out onto the square. But today all was still dark and dank, the square mostly devoid of life, a really beautiful area.

Later on we walked passed a very fancy Nespresso shop and decided to go in for a coffee. I ordered the strongest coffee they had and man, was that strong, I almost had to chew my way through it. I dislike drinking coffee bitter but it would have been a sin to add sugar to that, it was divine.

 

 

And then we came upon a little road called Rue Joubert (Joubert Street), can you believe, my very own street in Montpellier!

We ambled along the most beautiful little streets and its buildings and then stumbled upon the square where Adri and I had a few beers a while back. We settled again at the Cafe Joseph and Didier informed us that this cafe was very popular with the student community. This is where they meet for a few drinks before going out clubbing for the night. And he also advised that it was not really very hip to refer to it as Cafe Joseph, but rather Cafe Jo, pronounced Cafe zjou. Now we know! Are we hip yet?

We had a blanche beer, an Edelweiss, a first for me. And although it is a white wheat beer and tastes similar to Hoegaarden, it has an ever so slightly sweetish tinge to it, rather pleasant. Didier told us about a beer house somewhere close to the station where his students took him once. Yes, of course we’d like to see it. And when I saw it, I had to have a beer in there. The bar is like something out of another era with old wooden furniture and bar counter that I am sure have many stories to tell and many secrets to keep. On the walls there is an eclectic mix of memorabilia from decades long forgotten, this place was magic!

Here we had another blanche beer, this time a Verdett of which I have had the bottle variety of but never the pression (draught). This stuff tasted like more, but unfortunately it was getting late and Didier still had a motorbike to guide home. We said our goodbyes and boarded the train with tired but happy smiles, we were homeward bound.

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