Cassis and the Calanques

My mom is here visiting from Boston.  She arrived just in time for Julian’s birthday celebration, which may merit another entry in and of itself.  But after a few days of adventures with the kids, my mom and I decided to take an “adult” trip down to Cassis, a beach town on the Mediterranean Sea.  I drove the enormous van we had rented for the weekend, and even managed to make it through all of the many and various types of toll booths.  (This was one of my biggest worries before we set out – the toll booths are pretty much all unlabeled and so we have had MANY adventures trying to make our way through, trying coins, cash, credit cards and finally buzzing for help just to make it through the darn gate!) 

Approaching Cassis, the sights just get better and better.  The mountains are more stunning, the little villages are quainter and when you finally turn around the last bend to catch sight of the sea your whole being just breathes a sigh of completeness.  My mom did not disappoint.  “Oh, oh, oh!”  We hunted out some parking and walked down to the port.  There are so many restaurants surrounding the port, whetting our appetite for our luncheon to come.  But first up on the agenda (how we could have an agenda in a lazy sea port I don’t know, but we did) was to figure out how to catch a boat out to the Calanques. 

“The Calanques” is the name given to the cliff and creek formations along the coast between Marseille and Cassis.  There are a number of hidden coves, each with marvels of their own.  We easily found a boat tour and hopped aboard the boat which was to leave in two minutes.  French time.  About twenty minutes later, with a full boatload, we set off to the colorful commentary of our French tour guide. 

Our tour was to cover eight Calanques.  They really were hidden from view, until just about the moment of approach.  The first had a Roman wall along one side, with the drop-dead turquoise blue color of the sea surrounding us on all sides.  There was a rich-French-person Marina “hidden” in this cove as well, which sort of detracted from the beauty of it all.  Unless, of course, you were one of the lucky boat-owners!

The Calanques sort of blend together in a impressionist painting of white cliffs, wind-carved formations, turquoise sea, colorful fish and plongeurs (deep-sea divers).  Some of the highlights were: a natural amphitheatre of stone dubbed Lula’s cathedral, with towers reaching up to the sky and a “window” peeking from one Calanque into the next.  Another with a tower pointing straight up to the sky, dubbed “God’s finger” with a grotto below dubbed “Devil’s Hole.”  Two rock islands guarding another Calanque, in the form of two hump-backed camels.  Several sea caves with seemingly endless walls, and a submerged grotto that has prehistoric paintings on the walls.  And over and over and over again, the stunning backdrop of the sheer white cliffs plunging down to the blue sea below. 

And then, best of all, I could show my mom the seventh Calanque, to which we had taken the boys over the summer.  I could point out to my mom the mountains over which we had to hike, the steepness of the trail that even Noah maneuvered without issue and the stunning little beach where we set up camp, secluded from almost all sight.  The most exciting part of hiking in to this particular Calanque (which we accessed completely through public transportation, BTW, with a bus from Aix to Marseille, a Metro ride and then one more bus to the University at Luminy) is that once you are out swimming, there is a rock just close by from which one can jump and dive into the waters below.  It is quite a leap, but Ed and I jumped, as well as Micah! It was a really cool feeling to have boated in so far and to know that my family had gotten to the same location on their own two legs!

Returning to Cassis, my mom and I started scouting menus.  Not so easy for two women, one of whom is a vegetarian and the other of whom does not eat any seafood, in a beach-town.  We chose a restaurant, ordered two salads and sat back to watch the world walk by.  Five noisy Frenchmen sat at a table nearby, slurping oysters and pouring wine.  A couple to one side of us had a romantic luncheon while a couple on the other side had two glasses of wine and two large bowls of olives then tottered off for a stroll.  A couple with their dog in tow sat down to dine, ordering for their dog as well.  And this is all with the fishing boats and yachts not 50 metres away, the sounds of the waves against the sea walls accompanying our meal. 

After lunch we walked down to the beach so that my mom could put her toes in the Mediterranean Sea.  It was cold!  I (wisely, I think) refrained, as the last two times I had come with my family it was in the heat of summer, with lots of topless and tanned bodies sun-bathing cheek and jowl with my boisterous family! The beach at Cassis is lovely.  It is a pebble beach, but once you are swimming it makes no difference on your feet.  The waves are more than enough to keep us happy, with lots of good opportunities for jumping and even for a few wipe-outs!  And just above the beach, atop yet another high cliff, sits this mysterious chateau.  It is enormous, and must still be privately owned as it is not open to the public.  It stretches across so much of the clifftop as to seem an entire castle, with a mix of both medieval and modern architecture.  There are jaw-dropping panoramic windows from which one can only imagine the view, and what must be a swimming pool right along the edge.

We took one final walk through the port to check out the lighthouse at the end, and then we were off, back to Aix to pick up the boys from school.  I think of the phrase I read in a book at one point, “Feeling pleased with her purchases…” because as we left the town of Cassis I just kept thinking, “Feeling pleased with their seaside adventure, the two ladies headed back for home.” 

Vivre Ensemble en France

Such was the title of the movie I had the privilege to watch the other afternoon.  Ed and I had taken a trip down to Marseille, about twenty minutes to the south of Aix-en-Provence.  It is the main port city in the southern portion of France and Ed and I spent the morning walking around the old port, watching fishermen mend their nets, smelling the remnants of the morning’s early morning fish market and listening as the vendors hawked their tours.  Of which Ed and I decided to take one up on the offer.  We rode an hour-long train around the old quarter of Marseille, accompanied by descriptions in French, English, German and Portuguese.  Cheesy, yes.  Informative, affirmative. The first translation into English let us know that, “after this tour, Marseille would no longer hide the secrets from us.”  We saw lots of interesting sights including some forts, tanks, churches, islands (including the Chateau d’If, where Alexandre Dumas wrote The Hunchback of Notre Dame), and interesting neighbourhoods.  But the really interesting stuff of the day was still to come. 

Several weeks ago, after finally completing all of our paperwork for the carte du sejour, we were feeling very proud of ourselves for making it through all of the bureaucratic hoops.  And then we received our summons in the mail.  It turned out that, while we were awaiting our carte du sejour we were required to have a medical examination, by the bureau of immigration.  But that was not all.  The letters very clearly stated that we also needed our vaccination records, to bring our eyeglasses with us, to have taken and brought a copy of our latest pulmonary radiology exam, and to purchase 340 Euro worth of special stamps to pay taxes (this is a lot of money!).  Ed’s letter stated all of this in about ten lines, mine in two pages.  On more careful scrutiny it turned out that I would need to attend an introductory session to my life here in France, pass a language competency exam, and a few other items.  We were told to plan on a half-day at the Bureau. 

After lining up some friends to pick up the boys after school, Ed and I made a touristy morning out of the day.  And then we headed over to the meetings.  Well, we arrived about half an hour ahead of the scheduled appointment at 1:30 to find that we were not the only ones with a 1:30 appointment.  There were a number of older people sitting in the few chairs in the entry hall, and so we filed in at the back of the group to wait our turn.  The doors were, of course, locked because it was still part of the mandatory two-hour lunch break.  As it got closer to 1:30, more and more people arrived.  But they went to the front of the line.  Why would one wait at the back when there is room at the front?  Finally at 1:28 several women arrived with keys and let everyone know that the doors would open in two minutes.  Sure enough, two minutes later the door was buzzed open and, amazingly, all those little old ladies in chairs were among the first to make it through the doors! 

Shoving our way up the stairs, everyone wanting to be the first to show their appointment papers to the ladies in the accueil, we were all shepherded into an empty room with a television.  All except for Ed, who was the first to be called in for his medical exam.  The rest of us unworthy immigrants had to sit through not just one screening, but two showings of the same film, Vivre Ensemble en France, a movie on a repeating cycle that described all of the rights and privileges we would now have as members of French society. 

After the second showing of the film, one of the bureaucrats came in and very kindly informed us that were now to wait as all of us were to see the same doctors in turn.  She also explained all of the additional requirements for the day, to which there were many questions and answers.  Next in line was a social worker who informed us that the adjustments as an immigrant were sometimes hard and confusing and he was willing and able to guide us through the process.  More questions, more answers, More people pointing out that s/he required an earlier doctor’s visit than the others because of reason X, Y or Z.  So I stepped out of the room and asked why I was still there when my husband was just about complete with his time there.  “Oh, who are you?... Oh, Madame Schatz… Thank you.  Go sit down please.”  Well, not one minute later my name was called and my appointment began. 

It turns out that Ed has a “scientific” visa or some such thing, which accords him all sorts of importance and speed in dealing with the bureaucracy.  Maybe we are less likely to stay for good, maybe we are considered a more “worthy” class of citizen, I don’t know.  I was just so relieved to be proceeding with my afternoon, and catching up with Ed, who had ALL of our paperwork. 

So, after being offered another pulmonary x-ray, I was taken in to the first doctor where I was weighed, measured and interrogated.  And that vaccination record which I had stupidly left behind in Canada?  Well, she just asked me to look at the list – had I had any of those vaccinations?  I admitted to being up-to-date and that was enough of an answer for her to cross them all off the list for me. Same thing with my eye exam… did I wear glasses or contacts?  Yes, for driving only.  OK.  Check.  On to the next doctor where I was asked to breathe.  And to have my blood pressure taken.  “Are you healthy?”  Yes.  OK.  And that was it. 

After another waiting period I was invited into the next room where I had the opportunity to turn in my language certificate.  All fine and dandy.  Did I want to have a work-related language competency interview?  No thank you, I do not plan on working in any paid capacity this year.  And came the doozy…

“On which dates will you be free?”  I’m not sure, what is available?  Well, she went on to offer a number of dates that coincided with our vacation in the Loire Valley.  No thank you, no thanks, ummm… how about in November.  It turns out that I will need to take a full-day formation civique, a course in French civics, in order to be officially processed for my carte du sejour.  Upon asking at the accueil, they admitted that my carte du sejour would be immediately available, even before I take the course.  So technically I could just skip it and get another letter inviting me to attend at another date in the future.  But I have to admit to having a morbid curiosity as to what is entailed in French civics.  So off to Marseille I will go again, next time for a full day of lessons.  But after that I should be fully “installe” in my life here in France.  Right??!!!

ICE CREAM (guest-post by Ed)

One of this summer's defining features has been an abundance of, and a parental overreliance on, ice cream. Versailles? Ice cream. The Luberon? Ice cream. The glories of the Mediterranean coast? Ice cream, bien sur. With the shorter and cooler days of fall on their way, we may soon rely less on the sticky stuff. In the meantime, a celebration in photos, with the crowning achievement at the end--from l'Art Glacier, a stupendous and nearly-impossible-to-find artisan creamery in [shh...secret location:)].

Am I still a grad student?

Planning ahead for the big adventure, we worked really hard to get our home into tip-top shape.  To make it look like we really were good homeowners with a house worthy of care.  We had come a long way in the domicile department, starting with a single room in another couple’s apartment to owning our own home in our own neighbourhood with friends all around.  And then we moved here to Aix-en-Provence. 

There are so many reasons that this was the right step for this particular phase in our lives.  The boys are the right age to still be able to drop their life in Toronto for a new one in Europe.  They are all still young enough to benefit from the agility of the young in learning languages.  I am still a stay-at-home mother with the flexibility accompanying the title, as opposed to a new hire in a new position with little to no flexibility in my schedule.  And Ed was at a good point professionally to step back and focus on his research before he takes on new responsibilities upon his return. 

But, one thing that has been different, and I admit fun to try back on for the year, is the style of living in a furnished apartment.  I feel like I am living a lifestyle much more similar to how I lived in Madison, in graduate school, than to how I live in Toronto.  The furniture is definitely cobbled together.  The cushions on the sofa need to be reassembled each day so that they can be sat upon by the next person.  The dishes in the kitchen are of many varying vintages, each one chipped.  The two twin beds for Noah and Micah that are held together by a single queen sheet are a balancing act each night for the adult laying between the two mattresses, suspended by a mere 100 thread count. 

But I would not change any aspect of the experience.  It has really opened my eyes again to how portable my life can be.  And as to how little value the actual items I own in Toronto actually add to my day-to-day experience.  And as to how the important the items that we did choose to bring actually are.  We have a number of card and small board games that we could not do without.  The number of books is an issue, but we are still working our way around that one.  The public library still has a few books the boys have not read yet, and there is always rereading.  And I can not underestimate the value of pens and paper for us.  It is amazing to me how little space our possessions take up, but how much we actually do with all of them. 

This was all driven home to me while my in-laws were visiting last week.  My mother-in-law brought some very thoughtful tea towels with her.  Perfect.  They were small and useful.  And while she was here she found some silicone muffin wrappers.  Also small, and she knows how much I love to bake.  But then I realized that I needed to put them away.  And the sesame oil that I was so thrilled to find last week now needed to find a place on the shelf.  And the extra bottles of milk that we purchased while we rented the car also needed a space.  And so, the longer we live here, the more STUFF I find that I need to store, stash, incorporate into my life. 

It is a stark change from the basics that we had at the end of our time in Toronto.  We had more than a few, um, creative meals before we left to use up such-and-such an ingredient.  And when we first moved here I only had access to what I could find easily, through the market and in the most immediate of stores.  In the kitchen I have a very small set of shelves to store all of my pantry items and it is getting quite crowded on them.  The hoarding techniques of my Toronto life do not apply very well here in Southern France or, at least, not in this apartment. 

So, you might ask, have I learned my lesson?  Will I try to keep things small?  I hope so.  It does help, I think, that we are trying to live with a cash economy, as opposed to using credit.  It is much harder to shell out big bucks for those extra bottles of milk knowing that they will just sit on a shelf biding their time.  Plus it is harder to cart them all back!  The philosophy of buying only what you need is much more apropos to a life where you are watching every penny go out and then carrying the spoils back to your home in your arms as opposed to in your trunk.  It is also way easier to pick up things on my daily routes through the city.  Almost all the places where I shop are in easy walking distance. 

My tea towels are so pretty I may bring them back to Toronto with me.  And those muffin wrappers – let’s just say that they were the perfect vessel to use up the second half of my squash for snack this week and my kids are looking forward to many more of their mom’s favorite give-them-some-veggies after-school snack.  And the asian-style slaw I made with the oil even won over my mother-in-law who said it reminded her of Hawaii. . So I guess that I really have graduated out of my university life-style into a slightly more habituated, but still able-to-work-with-less, lifestyle.  It’s nice to be able to know and prioritize what makes my life happier, and what can fall by the wayside.