La vie est belle

Sunday, May 27, 2012

Antique Brocante Salon Sale

Saturday morning Kurt, Chelsea and I went to the much awaited Salon Antiques Brocante at Domme. We had been seeing lots of signs for it ever since we arrived. They were posted everywhere. It never occurred to us that it would be so hard to find. We missed it because we were looking for something much larger. We found parking but were confused as to where it was. So we just followed the crowd and were surprised to find that it was only in one room of a building. It looked like it was all very expensive antiques, no junk (stuff I can afford), but I was determined to take my time and see it all.

Kurt’s goal was to fine old maps and post cards and he found them and purchased several. Chelsea found some beautiful old jewelry and discovered that she loved 1800 style dresses.

I wonder who this is for?

My finds...so far

Letter from 1945 WWII

I was able to purchase a few pieces, some pictures, some old charms, some linen napkins and towels, some old door knobs (like I need any more), old postcards, and the piece de resistance…a beautiful, and I mean BEAUTIFUL old linen curtain with lovely embroidered flowers and butterflies. It is a real treasure and I can’t wait to hang it in my large bedroom window and let the light shine through the ornate detail of the piece.

Tour de France

It was a 5 hour drive home from Nimes to Baran after dark. I cannot say enough that one literally puts his or her life on the line while driving on the highway in France. There are some seriously crazy drivers. I was driving 130 kph and was getting passed like I was sitting still. It’s not only their speed, but they weave in and out of traffic as if it were a video game. They come up on you so fast and ride your bumper until you switch lanes, then pass you and cut back in front of you so close that it seems your bumpers might touch. I wanted to cry when Kurt asked me to keep driving after Toulouse because he was sleepy. It wasn't so bad, though because the further we got away from the coast, there were fewer and fewer of these crazy drivers.

The Bullfight (Warning: graphic content)

Since we had chosen to spend as little as possible, our tickets were in the amphitheater; more steps…steep steps. Once at the top, we decided that the view was worth it.

Never thought I'd be at a bullfight, but interesting.

We waited for an hour as the crowd filed in, listening to the men yelling “CHAPEAUS” and “BOISSON FRESH” and “SHOO SHOO” whatever that is.

Kurt, lookin' all Frenchy with his scarf.

Chelsea, lookin' all Frenchy in my floppy hat.

Empty.........then packed!

When the arena was finally full, the band started playing, and the pomp and circumstance began. Matadors, roman soldiers with huge feathers in their helmets, and armored horses marched out. They all took their places behind the perimeter wall.

Then silence, the drum roll, then the first bull came out. He was mad from the start. The team of bullfighters with their pink capes taunted him. In an arena that large, you could hear each bullfighter yell “hey” to the bull. He would run at them, under their cape, then on to the next. At times, another bullfighter would run at the bull with no cape but two spears, one in each hand, the bull would in return run full charge at him. He would spear the bull in the back and run out of the way.

After several moments of this, the “head matador” (sorry I’m not up on my bullfight terminology) came out to great cheering. The bullfighters stood aside, the Matador tipped his hat to the crowd in all directions, then tossed it behind him and headed toward the bull. Again, dead silence. Exhibiting great showmanship with his red cape he yelled in a deep growly voice, “Hey! Hey!” As the bull, growing madder, ran under the cape, the crowd would yell, “Ole'!” Then silence again, out of respect for the matador. Finally, the matador would dare the bull to charge him by swinging the cape behind him. Then bend and stretch and let the cape take the bull.

The first matador made an error in judgment and the bull got his horn locked in his leg and threw him in the air and then to the ground.

Where it all went terribly wrong. Matador on left of the bull, cape on the right.

An upside-down Matador.

The bullfighters took over diverting the bull elsewhere, giving him a moment to recover. As he came back into the arena, the crowd cheered, happy that the bull hadn’t won. He soon put the bull out of its misery,(details too disturbing to share here) to the delight of the cheering fans. Two horses were let out to drag the bull out of the arena.

Celebrating his victory over the bull.

There were three of these matches, but we only stayed for two. We had seen enough and chose to leave before the mass exodus of 15,000 people. It was an awesome experience, though sad and disturbing. I’m glad I went. I doubt I will ever see another bullfight, and that will be okay with me.

Our feet on the stones of a Roman Coliseum

Nimes

Friday morning we headed to Nimes, the town denim was first made in (de’nim) I really wanted to buy a pair of jeans from Nimes, but sadly, found none. I don’t think the French are as crazy about jeans as Americans are, we rarely see anyone in jeans, but if we do we say “they must be American.”

Close to the coast, the countryside looked to me like I would imagine Italy does. Vineyard after vineyard, row after row, the growing grapes are soon to become wine on someone’s table.

Vineyards and Sea

In Nimes, we discovered they were having a Feria De Nimes festival, a Pentecost celebration. Their were street venders selling chapeaus (hats) and matador scarves. I finally bought a floppy hat and Kurt bought a scarf to wear on our heads, the sun was beaming that day.

Then there were the food vendors selling mostly paella in huge woks. The kids ate that, but I opted for pizza. French people, we have discovered, don’t eat lunch on the run like we do. They sit…they smoke…they talk and laugh…they have a drink…then they order their food. They savor each bite…then they smoke…then drink…then talk and laugh…then they have dessert. Then when all that is done they have a café (and a smoke). A course of its own, café is meant to be enjoyed all by itself.

My Pizza Lunch

Paella

Roman Coliseum

We learned that there was a bullfight that evening, which was four hours later. We sat on a big green lawn, filled with festival goers, and decided if we should go back to Baran or stay for the bullfight.

Purchasing our tickets

Chelsea REALLY wanted to stay for it. I really didn’t care to, but since they wanted to, we did. We spent the afternoon looking at the historic sites of Nimes. There was the most beautiful ornate fountain.

We saw Maison Carree, built in 19 B.C. It is hard to comprehend that length of time, and imagine the people who built it. We climbed many many steps to see the city garden. Very tiring, but very lovely as well.