Ben, the editor of the online newspaper The Local France tells the funny story of his first visit to a doctor in this country. He had gone in with a sore throat but soon found himself naked, on all-fours on the floor, scrambling to collect the coins that had fallen out of his trouser pockets and rolled under the doctor’s desk. Knowledge, or lack of in this case, was the problem since Ben had not yet perfected his language skills (“take off your shirt” doesn’t mean “take off everything”) and he didn’t know that practitioners might give you an overall exam even if your ailment seems limited to one spot in your body. Accompanying this story was an article with several points on how to feel more at home in France.

Today is July 14 and in France it’s officially called “La Fête Nationale” (the National Holiday) although most often we hear, “le quatorze juillet” (the 14th of July). Interestingly, none of our French friends ever say “Bastille Day” even when they are brave enough to practice English with us. Apparently the name was just a practical choice since neither of those translations above would have much meaning except in France—think “4th of July” outside of the US for a comparison. Given that today is such a beloved holiday here, I wanted to investigate further its origin and make some comparisons with America’s Independence Day.

Our neighbor is 105. Technically her home address is at an EHPAD (retirement home) but we see Christian so often across the street at her daughter’s house we think that she’s part of the neighborhood. On most Sundays we give her a hand getting the wheelchair across the threshold and for that we are rewarded with glasses of champagne, sometimes lunch, and always a lively conversation that often includes reminiscences that might go almost back to her birth year of 1919. We’ve heard first-hand accounts of sorting through the rubble of her grandparents’ house even years after WWI ended, living under Nazi occupation as a radio journalist in Paris and Luxembourg, and obtaining the right to vote and to open a bank account without her husband’s permission. I wondered about those dates and other significant events in French history over the last century.

When you are preparing to move to a new country and even years after you’ve made the leap, naturally you’re looking at all of the advantages offered in your new homeland. We still comment on the quality of life here, affordable healthcare for everyone, efficient public transportation, beautiful landscapes, the rich history and culture, and the sense of community that we’ve found from day one. With that in mind, it came as a surprise to read the results of a survey that was taken at the end of last year regarding the desire of the French to leave this country. About one third of the respondents in general were ready for a change of citizenship status to expatrié(e) while that increases to half if you look only at young people. 

Our neighbor is creative. Sarah and family moved here from Brittany and brought with them a professional style crêpière so it wasn’t long before we got invited to their re-creation of a Restaurant Crêperie in their kitchen, complete with umbrellas for decoration to represent their frequently wet weather. The galettes had filling choices of ham, egg, sauteed onions, and cheese. For the dessert crêpes we could select sugar, honey, salted caramel or chocolate sauce, jams, and a hazelnut spread. Cups of cold cider were plentiful throughout the meal. While all of that was fairly traditional, her Halloween party foods were even more imaginative, starting with what Bill and I called “lady fingers” but Sarah labeled even more menacingly as les doigts de sorcières, witches’ fingers that you see at the top of this post. That’s their carved butternut squash, above to the left. A few more photos follow.