(a few pictures of our yard in winter...)
We're having a tranquille Christmas Eve Eve; our shopping is done, and the only remaining errands are to pick up our bûche de Noël at the boulangerie and our turkey and oysters from the boucherie tomorrow. The kids ran off to the boulangerie this morning, as they do every Sunday morning (Julian has had a kind of conversion in favor of the pastry called la réligieuse), with directions to order a bûche for tomorrow -- it's a chocolate cake rolled with whipped cream, dusted with cocoa, and decorated to look like a Christmas log, with candy mushrooms growing out of it and whatever else the baker comes up with. Now they're on the terrace on this mild afternoon, stringing popcorn for the birds, and probably talking about Pokemon.
We had our first oysters for lunch this morning, bought from a woman on a street corner in Périgueux. Just a squeeze of lemon, and slurped them down standing over the sink. Magnificent. As good as a trip to the beach, all briny with a taste like a wave breaking over your head. I followed them up with a plate of escargots -- not a dish from this region but no point in being rigid, n'est-ce pas? No one had the courage to join me. Maybe my description of their tasting like buttery garlicky erasers put them off. I love them.
Last night we drove into Périgueux for dinner because we'd seen a flyer announcing a Balade aux Flambeaux (a walk with torches), with singers and theater and medieval costumes. We wandered around the empty streets, on most of which no cars are allowed because this section of Périgueux was built in the Middle Ages -- the four of us could easily hold hands and touch opposite walls. The slender turrets on the corners of the some of the buildings were casting sharp shadows. Our footsteps clattered on the cobblestones. Aside from some of the wares for sale in a few of the shops, and a few strings of Christmas lights, there was nothing to remind us that we weren't in the 16th century.
After dinner (not good or bad enough for a full report, alas!) we caught up to the procession -- around 200 people carrying torches, moving down a wide street and then pouring through a narrower one. It was 9:30 and Nellie was very tired, until she heard the cackling of a woman's voice over a loudspeaker and saw a man racing by in costume with a chest on his back. We followed the crowd into a small square and watched the scene for a while. Ah, life in the Middle Ages -- gluttony, poverty, lasciviousness, and derangement! The costumes were very good, the masks and makeup scary, and apparently the language of theater is the same around the world, although I don't happen to speak it.
But the walk through those medieval streets behind the mob carrying torches was worth staying up for, even for delicate flowers like Nellie and me.
