Christmas

Today is my last day in Apt before Christmas and I woke up to clouds- a rare sight these days in Provence. I got up early, had my porridge and went off to school, determined to not let the day be as bad as Tuesday. With the first class we played Pictionary with the Christmas vocabulary we had already learnt- and thankfully they understood quickly and were suitably competitive to concentrate on remembering the words they had learnt. At break the head teacher invited me to the Christmas staff meal- and although I can't make it because it's next week- it's the first school that have invited me and included me in their plans so I was pleased to be asked. The secretary came and chatted to me in English- I think she likes to practise because although I try to address her in French she always replies in English. She wanted to know how we celebrate Thanksgiving. I told her I was English and it was an American tradition, and it was two weeks ago. Oh- she said- so America celebrates Thanksgiving and England celebrates Halloween instead? Not quite... I tried to explain, England celebrate Christmas and Halloween like France, but Thanksgiving is an extra tradition in America, in November. With the gift of hindsight, I think she had confused Thanksgiving and Christmas and has probably gone home thinking the English don't celebrate Christmas and the Americans celebrate it the third week of November.

Waiting for my next class, I had two compliments from the students; 'you dress is good,' from one of the girls and 'you face is good' from one of the boys. One of the things that surprised me as we went up to class was that two of the boys came in fighting. The teacher shouted at them to stop and held out her arm to divide them, at which point one of the boys pushed his elbow past her and punched the other boy on the eye. It was a pretty ineffectual punch but the teacher pushed the first boy against the wall, and he retaliated by shoving his shoulder against her. She just shouted at him again and he burst into tears. He spent the rest of the class zipped fully into his hood and as far as I could see the incident was over. I was amazed. Physical violence against another student is severe enough in England but against a teacher...I'm sure the punishment in England would be expulsion.

In that class we did a Christmas wordsearch- a moderately easy activity for the last lesson before Christmas- or so I thought. There were several students who put up their hand to ask me, 'where is 'Christmas pudding?', seemingly unaware the point of a wordsearch was to SEARCH for the words. Another girl would put up her hand and say, 'I have found Father Christmas' and indicate the word on the grid, but then ask where the word ended. I pointed to the word underneath. 'Father Christmas ends with an 's' so it ends at the 's'. It's not FATHERCHRISTMASXGDS'.

When I got back to school in the afternoon my lessons went better- I played Pictionary with the really naughty class with the sanction that their team would lose a point if they were talking when it wasn't their turn to guess. It didn't mean they were necessarily quiet but it was a tool to quieten them down when things were getting out of hand. A bit of competition works wonders. When I went back downstairs to wait for the next class, the secretary stopped me. 'I just wanted to wish you a happy thanksgiving.' I was so confused I only realised later she was trying to say happy Christmas and I hadn't wished her one back in return.

After school, my final appointment of the week was with a French woman who was interested in speaking French with me in return for the chance to practise English conversation. I went to her apartment, which is a beautifully cosy apartment, with wall to wall books and a gorgeous view over Apt. She made tea, and had these delicious traditionally French biscuits and we talked for three hours in French, about my life, my family, her life, her sons and husband, her work, my time in France, secularism in France (I've been well prepared for that conversation from all my oral classes at Uni) and numerous other things. Up until day I was under the impression my French had improved very little and it's still hard to gage but I understood everything she said, and she understood everything I said- and she also said my French is a very good level- so after three months in Provence- I'll take that! I left her apartment at 8 and now here I am, sitting on my bed, packed up, ready for the long journey home tomorrow. This time tomorrow I'll be home, and it's definitely time.

So thank you to everyone who has been following my blog, it means a lot to me that you want to know how I'm getting on. My next post will be when I return in January, probably in low spirits, but with lots to look forward to. So Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, or should I say Joyeux Noel et Bonne Nouvelle Annee!

Day To Day

On Tuesday they have a farmers market in Apt- where they sell local organic produce, more expensive albeit but you know you're getting the good stuff. It is held opposite the school and the last couple of Tuesdays I have been down to see what it's like. There isn't a lot on offer; a fish van, lots of cheese, wine sellers, apple juice and the most novel to me- Persimmon fruit. Last week I bought one to try, and needn't have bothered because the seller asked if I had ever had one, and when I said no, he promptly sliced one up for me there and then. They are so tasty- so juicy and tropical and so cheap I ate my second one that evening and have been waiting all week to buy more. I also bought some goats cheese as a gift for Mum and Dad last week- though being a non cheese eater, I was under the impression the longer you kept cheese, the better it was. Apparently not- I went back and asked the vendor yesterday how long it lasts and he said a week at a push. So I bought some more for Mum and Dad and now have the conundrum of what to do with some good quality, pricey but very smelly and borderline gone-off goats cheese in the fridge. I have Alison coming for lunch today so I'm planning on buying a baguette and plying as much as possible off on her. After picking everything up I joined Becca in Bar L'Aptois, where the front has the best of the days sun on it and all year round (though perhaps not when the Mistral arrives) the locals sit out of the front, smoking and grumbling.

I didn't have a picture and found this on a Wikipedia page from 2011- but it's such an accurate depiction of the scene today- from the sign to the first man with his apple juice and the blue sky- it could have been taken yesterday. It shows how little must change in this sleepy part of Provence!

After lunch I met Sabine to drive up to school and she told me she had a dentist appointment and 'rendez-vous' that had come up tomorrow when I was supposed to be going for lunch but that next Wednesday was still okay and would I be free at the weekend to do something with them. I told her I was going back to England on Friday but certainly after the holidays I would still be happy to start our lunches. I wasn't too disappointed because I sense she is entirely genuine about wanting to help me and include me, as she proved later in the day.

My first lesson is the oldest class in the school, and I started the same lesson I have done all week on Christmas. The oldest classes are always the least enthusiastic about Christmas, they have moved on so far from my Year 4s, who show absolute uninhibited attention and enthusiasm, and their only desire is to misbehave, send me up and make each other laugh. This is all fine as long as the teacher is with me. I am not in a position to discipline the children- I don't know the process, I don't know the language well enough- and I am well aware of the humour for them of a teacher who cannot find the words to tell them off, or who does so in very grammatically incorrect French. So I teach the class, and I rely on the teacher to make sure the children listen and behave. Unfortunately half way through the class my teacher left to go and do some admin. Immediately the noise started and while I was ineffectually shouting 'quiet', the boy started up their amusing game 'ca veut dire quoi?' (that means what?) at everything I said. I looked at the main offender and told him to be quiet, and tried to continue with the lesson. Except we had just come across the picture of Father Christmas ('Père Noël- Father Christmas- ca veut dire quoi?) when one of the girls burst into tears- and her friend was angrily addressing one of the boys at the front and from what I could make out of the conversation, he had called her fat. Of course he protested, I called Père Noël fat. No- you called me fat. No, it was Père Noël. I have no idea what happens because I didn't hear, and may not have necessarily understood if I had, but I had a girl crying, I could not tell the boy off because I didn't know what had happened, I could not comfort the girl because I didn't have the language skills and I had a noisy badly behaving class to behave. So I carried on. It was a nightmarish half hour, and the boy never stopped his tirade of 'ca veut dire quoi?' so I sent him outside, at the point the teacher returned. She seemed unconcerned and went to the back of the class to continue her paperwork, while of course the class fell silent. Because I leave half way through the lesson and not at break time I did not have the opportunity to speak to her about what happened because I felt she should know, and I also wanted to tell her she could not leave me alone with the children- because the more a class like this happens, the less respect they have for me. But I didn't get a chance to do this, and I left close to tears and disappointed that my last week at school would end on such a bad note.

My second lesson is with the mother of one of the boys I tutor. The lesson went moderately better, but I felt diminished after the first one and lacking in confidence which the children pick up on immediately. I stopped behind at break to talk to the teacher about her son, because I was worried that he wasn't getting enough out of my classes- his level is so far above the other three. She reassured me it didn't matter, it was revision for him, it was interesting and it occupied him (he's a bit of a live wire). She told me she had two older daughters at the lycée whose English is in a much worse state, and much more important. So I offered immediately, should she wish, I would be very happy to have English conversation/ grammar practise with them. She was immediately delighted, and said she would love that- and we promptly arranged that Wednesday evenings I would wait for her outside the school and she would take me to their house, where I could do half an hour's conversation with each daughter. She offered me 15€ a session which again, adds to my weekly income, and also fills up the hours in the day with things to do, French acquaintances to make and language practise to be had.

So I was feeling more cheerful and more upbeat when I did the last lesson, and another pretty drawing, entitled 'vive emi' was presented to me at the end. I headed out to wait for my private class when the teacher stopped me and said to go down to the class of CE1, the teacher, Madame Faustin, had something to ask me. I had never met Madame Faustin but I did so, and she told me, she had been speaking to Sabine about how I wanted more practise at French conversation, and she had a friend who lives in Apt, who wants to practise her English conversation in return for practising her French conversation. I could have kissed her at this point- this is what I've been wanting to arrange all along, and was about to thank her, leave her my mobile number and depart for my lessons, when she dialled the number of her friend and passed the phone on to me. So we had a brief French conversation and arranged a 'rendez-vous' for Thursday night.

I'm glad that what could have been an awful day, turned into a good one, though slightly worried about how my classes went. Fortunately today Alison is coming over to Apt for lunch and we're planning a leisurely 'déjeuner français', which will be the perfect way to remind myself, I'm not an alien or a social pariah- I'm perfectly normal in England but I just need some help fitting in!

Chez Sylla

I heard about Chez Sylla from the couple that owned the Marston House, who told me of the wine cave just down the road from Apt, where you could eat salad, a cheese plate, plus dessert, wine and coffee for just 12€. A lot of the restaurant food in Apt is overpriced and overrated, you can much better source local ingredients and eat à la maison but with a week to go, Becca and I fancied a long lazy celebratory lunch and we decided to head down the road and see if the legend was true. 

Though neither Becca and I like cheese- a major social faux pas in France- we ordered the 'petit plat' which included salad, a selection of cheese, and choice of three wines to taste, before desert and coffee. The first wine, along with a carafe of water arrived first. Neither Becca or I know a thing about wine but we chose quite a fruity white wine to start, of which we were both given a generous glass, and sipped it slowly while waiting for our starters. When I saw two plates piled high with salad, bread and cheese heading towards us I was sure it couldn't be the 'petit plat' but sure enough, they were deposited on our table with a cheery 'bon appetit!' 

We both decided to try the cheeses- we could hardly leave them untouched- and found, unfortunately, neither of us had grown to like cheese. They were left on the edge of the plate. I think they were particularly strong cheeses, they were obviously good quality and well matured but not for a pair of amateur cheese tasters! The salads were delicious, drenched in the obligatory Provençal slug of olive oil and with juicy sun dried tomatoes, chutney and three slices of bread; sourdough, sun dried tomato, and black olive bread to mop up any leftovers. Half way through the dinner our glasses were whisked away, and replaced with our second wine of choice- a rosé for Becca and another glass of white for me. We ate slowly, trying to eat enough of the awful cheese to look polite, and also mimicking the very leisurely French style of eating. In England you could easily eat two courses over lunch and be done in half an hour (with service as quick as ours) yet Becca and I made the meal last two and a half hours. Also, we are not quite as adept as the French at knocking back the wine, and our second glass lasted until she had given us our choice of deserts.

the most offensive cheese- I admit I couldn't even bring myself to try this one

We both picked chocolate fondant, which was deliciously rich and creamy*, and went down very well. However we were beginning to wonder what would happen with the third glass of wine. Both of us rather thought it would be a social error to ask for our third wine after desert, though we had both wanted to try a red. However nobody came to ask us about it and two coffees were brought to follow the desserts, which were delicious and the perfect end to a very very good lunch. We rolled out at three- after parting with 12€- hardly anything for such a delicious lunch. Despite the wine blip- perhaps we just can't keep up with the French- and truth be told neither of us really needed another, it was a truly delicious meal and I would recommend Chez Sylla to anyone. I can't wait to take my next Apt visitor there- preferably someone who likes cheese! 

sunny walk home

*though it doesn't quite live up to the Turkish/ Cumbrian one Heather!

Blue Skies

The weather here at the moment is the very best winter weather can be. Cold crisp nights, frosty mornings and bright blue sky and sunshine every day. It's been surprisingly mild too. After my purchase of a 120€ euro feather-down coat, of course the temperature has soared back up to 13/15 degrees a day. A week from now I will be on the train from London to York, and I can't wait. I'm already packed. Aside from packing, this week has been moderately productive. I've started Christmas shopping for everyone, rounding up the best of the Provençal specialities to take home. School on Monday and Tuesday were fine, I got a new round of 'Vive L'Anglais' posters from the girls in my class and a 'Vive Emmi' poster which I can only guess means 'Vive Amy.' I am storing these as souvenirs of this year.

blue skies 

Tuesday I had a bit of a breakthrough at last. The immersion in French life did not quite happen this year quite as I imagined; instead of leisurely lunches of wine and cheese with my teachers and their families, the teachers have all been friendly but kept themselves to themselves and so Becca and I go about our business, as the two English speaking habitants of Apt, spectating rather than partaking in French society. The French I have become most practised at is asking for a coffee, or a bus ticket which I'm not sure will be all that helpful when it comes to my degree. Every Tuesday the reception class teacher Sabine has taken me up to school, and has always been very warm, welcoming and friendly. This Tuesday, I dithered a bit before asking her if she knew of anyone who might want to help me practise my french, in return perhaps for some English conversation. 'Mais bien sur-!' She said (but of course!), 'you can come to us?' She very kindly offered for me to eat lunch with them once a week on a Wednesday, and said she would pick me up from school at lunchtime to eat with her and her daughters. I was overcome with gratitude, for it may seem like a small thing, but for me it means more integration, more practise, more friends, and something more to do. With only ten hours teaching a week, the weeks can stretch here, and I was really happy to have found another weekly routine. 

However as it seems to go here, I came home elated on Tuesday night and swiftly came back down to earth with a bit of a shock. When Becca and I opened our phone contracts we were both aware they included unlimited calls abroad, to fixed lines and mobiles. And this was how it happened for Becca so I had no reason to suspect otherwise. Except, when I got in Becca was puzzling over her breakdown of spending online, which included a 12€ charge for a call to a mobile, beginning with +44. We worked out this was two weeks ago when I'd borrowed her mobile to call Alice. She was sure it was a mistake but the dread was already creeping up, and my mind was flashing through the last week of blissful long phone calls to the UK. I logged into the internet site, and opened my breakdown of spending. I had managed to spend 120€ on phone calls to UK mobiles- 50c a minute and I had been on the phone for a good four hours. To landlines it was free but apparently the 'unlimited calls abroad, except for certain numbers' which was in the small print that I hadn't read, did not include English mobiles. I was furious with myself for not reading the small print, but also resigned to the fact there was no way I would have. There was nothing I could do except blackmark Virgin in my head and try not to think about the other ways to spend 120€.

On Thursday three of my teachers were ill and with the remaining three classes we did Christmas vocabulary and I learnt a little of their traditions. Instead of stockings they have Christmas boots, and apparently the Christmas pudding is just an English thing- Becca said in America they have Christmas cookies, and in France they have 'une buche de Noël', which is a chocolate log. I'm not sure about the cookies but I'm thinking this year, in honour of my 'provençal year' I'm going to make a chocolate log too- chocolate and cream win out over dried fruit anyday. On the way home I stopped by the office to pay my rent- where I gave them 107€90- I didn't have the change for the 107€82 and was rudely sent away and told to come back Monday because they couldn't open the till. C'est la vie français!

So that was another week and Friday is nearly over. I spent the day in Avignon having some retail therapy (Tuesday money trauma long forgotten) and this weekend there are various Christmas markets, carol singing and performances happening around Apt so Becca and I are planning on sticking around and watching the events unfold. On y va!

sunlight on the hills behind the school this evening

L'Allemagne

It took me seven hours to get to Germany by train; a long winding journey up through Northern France, out of the stony mountains and scrubby countryside of southern France, and into snow capped mountains, pine trees, and Swiss style chocolate box houses. We crossed the border at Strasbourg and arrived in Karlsruhe mid afternoon. The first thing I noticed was the cold, and the second, the delicious smell of sausages cooking. I found the 'Ausgang' (exit) and made my way out of the station, revelling in the sounds and smells. It's amazing when you get the chance to discover somewhere or something for the very first time. 

Erfurt Christmas market...the highlight of the weekend

Paige and I met at the station and took the next train from Karlsruhe to Jena, in East Germany, where Sofia lives. I had no idea how difficult it is to travel around Germany- the distances are long and the train ticket prices very expensive in comparison to France. For example, for me to take a train from the South of France up to the north (Paris) it costs around 25€ (booked in advance with my discount card). For Paige to take a train from the South of Germany up to the north (Berlin/ Hamburg) it costs around 80€ (booked in advance with a discount card). The journey from Karlsruhe to Jena took six hours but went so quickly, with so much to catch up on. We arrived in Jena at 10pm and met Sofia and her sister Susie who has just come over to live in Germany from their home in Mexico. We managed a cup of tea before falling into bed and sleeping well into the morning.

my first view of Germany

 Friday morning was spent exploring Jena while Sofia was at work. We grabbed a late breakfast at a 'health food' cafe, (the whole concept of health food/ organic food is quite big here) which turned out to be the best breakfast I have had in my whole time abroad. I thought France had the foodie thing knocked into a hat, but unfortunately (for me) I discovered very good things in Germany. I had a waffle with cinnamon, cream and apple sauce, and a hot chocolate. They had all kinds of flavours- I chose cashew caramel- caramel chocolate combined with cashew nougat and caramel crisps, with Japanese spices of peppermint, ginger, chilli and pepper. If your mouth is watering, it should be. It was the most amazing hot chocolate I have ever tasted, brought out simply as a tall glass of frothy hot milk, and a bar of this chocolate. You put the chocolate bar in the milk and have a small whisk. When the chocolate has melted you whisk it in to the milk. Heaven! I have looked for it online and it doesn't look very easy to get hold of but you can buy it here: http://www.zotterchocolate.co.uk/Buy-OnLine(2603292).htm

In the afternoon we split off from Susie who was going to help Sofia at school and did some more wandering before arriving back at the gallery to meet Sofia at 4.30. And so arrived 4.30. And then 5.30.  So we wandered down into the gallery where a crowd had gathered and a group of children were doing a Christmas dance performance. We were transfixed- they were amazing and so adorable. 

We easily watched them for about an hour, and then at 6.30, with no word from Sofia we decided to go and get some chips and wander back to the apartment to see if she had gone without us. We were sitting on the wall eating our chips and wondering what the best plan of action was, when Sofia, in typical Sofia fashion, ambled up, having apparently gone to the library 'for a bit'. She was totally unconcerned, as only Sofia can be. By the time Sofia and Susie had got their chips and we'd all eaten we wandered through the town to the Jena Christmas markets. Unfortunately half 7 was too late, in a small town like Jena they close around 7, and we could only get some bratwurst and Glühwein (mulled wine). My first bratwurst was delicious- they are so cheap and so tasty, I could eat them every day. The Glühwein also is the perfect addition to the Christmas markets, cheap, sold in gorgeous memorial mugs of each market, and warming to the core. It also adds to the atmosphere to walk around in a blissful fuzz of alcohol. We headed to an 'après-ski' bar and drank Glühwein galore until we decided to head on to a bar. Being 20, 21 and 22 we hadn't bothered bringing out IDs with us, which turned out to be a rookie error considering we are all about 5 feet tall. It didn't matter because we went back, got into bed and had a lot of chocolate until we fell asleep. 

gluhwein

a street in Jena 

 Jena

 Paige + bratwurst

Sofia, Paige and I

Friday morning started with Mexican pancakes, fried plantain and almond butter and a supposed early start. After waking Sofia and Susie up at 9am, we finally left the house at 1.30pm and arrived in Erfurt at 3.30pm about half an hour before dark. Of course we started as we meant to go on with Bratwurst, garlic creamy mushrooms, steak, washed down with plenty of Glühwein and then we started a meander through the market. Erfurt was a gorgeous town, with lots of beautiful old streets and buildings. The markets had such an amazing atmosphere, with smells of meat, roasting nuts, mulled wine, and lots of chatter and carol singing. We found the medieval market, selling slices of hot stollen for 1€ each and filled up any remaining tummy space with more mulled wine. Then we climbed up to the gothic cathedral and looked down over the market. I can't explain how content we were, with a stomach full of delicious food, a head full of wine and such a beautiful surrounding and atmosphere. I could have stayed all week.

A very happy Sofia en route to Erfurt

 Paige, me, Sofia and Susie

Sofia and Paige in Erfurt

A beautiful square in Erfurt

some map reading trouble

Sofia and Susie

Paige and I with yet another Gluhwein

the beautiful gothic cathedral in Erfurt

We had an early start to go to Nuremberg on Saturday, and so we all fell into bed when we got back from Erfurt. We left the apartment late and thundered down five flights of stairs, and out into the quiet street. The train journey was pretty, through snow covered countryside and lots and lots of pines. We arrived in Nuremberg at 11 and split off from Sofia who was meeting a friend. Luckily Suvi and Piers had tipped me off about the historical significance of Nuremberg- not being much of a historian myself- and they told me I must try to go to the Palace of Justice, where the most influential Nazis were trialled after the second world war, and most were sentenced to death. The Palace was huge and the exhibition very well and very thoroughly done. It was unnerving to see the faces of the men that were trialled all over the walls, and underneath the list of atrocities they had committed. It seemed unbelievable that it wasn't even one hundred years ago. You could also listen to the opening and closing speeches of each prosecutor- they had 4, one from the US, one from England, one from France and one from Russia. The closing one particularly was extremely moving. You could also watch witness statements- including the first Holocaust surviver to be a witness- very hard to watch. Then you could go and sit in Courtroom 600, where the trials took place, and through a screen, see a visual projection of how it had been, including the people sitting in each place. It took us about three hours to see everything, and we left feeling slightly subdued but it is so important for things to take on some kind of meaning. 

The Palace of Justice

Courtroom 600

We met Sofia then and headed back to the centre of Nuremberg, and climbed up to Nuremberg castle which offers panoramic views of the city. It's also a hostel where Sofia and Paige have once stayed and said it's very very nice, with an amazing breakfast and only 20€ a night for a double room. Then we bought bratwurst and wine, discovered eggnog (a first for both Paige and I), with free ginger biscuits to dip into the eggnog. We probably had more than our quota of biscuits but they were so good! We found stollen, in hundreds of flavours- cranberry and macademia, baileys, chocolate and almond, champagne... the list goes on and bought some of that. We bought some glühwein mugs as a souvenir of the weekend, though I don't think it will be my last Christmas market. We watched the band playing carols, and then when we were all too tired to stand anymore we went to a café and drank hot chocolate until midnight. Paige and I had a 1am train to catch to get us into Karlsruhe for 7am- in time for my 9am train back home. 

Nuremberg skyline

obligatory selfie

Nuremberg

Sofia, Paige and I

Our souvenir mugs

We said goodbye to Sofia and Susie and headed through the quiet streets (even after a huge event such as the Nuremberg Christmas market there were none of the English scenes of girls sitting in the gutter, and paramedics trying to revive people way past their limit.) We got on our train which had compartments in the carriages like Harry Potter and curled up to try and get some sleep. At 5, we woke in Frankfurt and were tipped out onto the cold platform where we had an hour to wait for the next train to Karlsruhe. Thankfully- so thankfully- everything ran smoothly and we were in Karlsruhe on time where we grabbed a continental breakfast (questionable) and said our goodbyes and I boarded the train to Strasbourg. 12 hours later I was back in Apt.

It was such a quick weekend but the best weekend I have had since being abroad. It was so good to be with close friends, and just be able to laugh. Germany was amazing and I am inclined to agree with Paige that it is the most underrated European country. Anybody that is reading this I would recommend it a hundred times!

These are the things I learnt about German people over the weekend:

1) They are very hard working, efficient and productive. At school Paige and Georgia said the teachers don't talk in the staffroom and would find it preposterous that other cultures might use facebook or catch up on the weekends events while in the office.

2) They don't mince their words. As an extended example of 1- in the workplace if someone is not doing something correctly or not working efficiently they would be told without hesitation. For example, in the documentary, the man was talking more than working and he was immediately informed, 'this is not how we work. You're not doing it right.'

3) On their double beds they use two single duvets and when they make the bed they fold them into squares at the bottom of the bed.

4) The women spend on average 4 hours doing housework, and they generally are all stay at home mothers.

5) On Sunday you have to observe the day of rest rule- it is illegal to mow the lawn, and you must keep quiet.

6) Germans are very focused on extracurricular activities. They do a lot of sport, play instruments and are very social. TV and popular culture is not such a big deal.

Ville De Lumières

Last night was the grand light switch on in Apt. I have probably explained previously to this post that the lights in Apt are done by the man who also does the Christmas lights for the Eiffel Tower, Regent Street, Oxford Street etc in London, and they all are made in, and come from Apt. For weeks Becca and I have seen cherry pickers in town, stringing the lights along the narrow streets and working on a beautiful cascade of lights from the fountain in the main square, Place de la Bouquerie. I wanted to go but this weekend Becca is seeing friends in Spain so I was slightly worried about going alone because the few times we've walked through the streets after dark, certain figures loitering in doorways and groups of people hanging round under the steps to the town pool have made me swear I won't do it alone. But I decided, if I was going to spend one year of my life in Apt it would be stupid to miss it, so I got wrapped up, made a thermos of tea and went out into the dark.

It was clear immediately I needn't have worried about being alone. A stream of people were making their way from the parking lot by the school, through the streets, where the vendors were out, with vats of 'vin chaud', crêpes and hot pastries for sale. I followed the crowd to Place de la Bouquerie and stood alone in the crowd, though a few of my children rushed up, and said 'Hello Amy!' and dashed away again. The french locals looked at me suspiciously, grunting and grumbling between themselves, raising their eyebrows at the foreign blonde girl standing on her own. It was a big family occasion and, being my first experience of sightseeing alone I felt a bit lost in the crowd. The Mayor of Apt took the stage that had been temporarily erected and made a short speech, thanking all the necessary people and then a loud countdown began. On one, a firework set off and exploded in the sky and the lights flickered on.

They looked lovely but it was a little anti climax, as immediately people started milling back through the streets, moving a millimetre a minute, as everyone tried to get back to the Place opposite the school on the other side of town to get a good spot for the fireworks. I needn't have worried about walking those streets alone- we were jammed in like sardines. The fireworks were the real stars of the show. I thought a little, not very wealthy town like Apt wouldn't have a great deal of funding for a great show and as my experience of fireworks are Thorganby bonfire and Cannes Bastille Day, both a far cry from each other, I rather thought Apt would fall short. I'm not sure I will ever see many fireworks that beat the ones in Cannes but these in Apt were a pretty magnificent display. I took plenty of pictures to demonstrate....