Expatville is a fun place to visit but a bad place to live, especially for a writer. I’m a person who enjoys putting down roots, although it was good to be repotted for a year.
In my year in the Béarn, I met people who were third-generation ex-pats, people whose grandparents had moved abroad and whose families had never gone ‘home’. Some spoke fluent French and had integrated quite far – but never fully – into their host community. Some spoke undiluted London English and were not fully literate in either language.
The crassness of some of the earlier immigrants was astonishing. Many of them had burned their boats financially, and could never afford to buy back into the British property market. These were the bitter ones. A surprising number spoke no French and had given up trying to learn. One of these was a woman who joked, ‘My finger speaks French,’ meaning that she could do her shopping by going into the market and pointing at what she wanted to buy.
All this is changing, very fast. There are, and always have been, good, brave, intelligent and curious people among the British in France. The balance is shifting rapidly towards them, as more and more cultural migrants arrive. Some of these are people buying retirement homes or holiday houses. Some of them make their living in the tourist industry, sharing their own delight in the country and its culture with short-term visitors.
Increasingly, however, people in the middle of their working lives are leaving their native countries for France. There are people like me, or like Andrew and Geoff, artists who can work anywhere. There are people who want to establish businesses, to farm, to make wine or cheese, to breed horses or to run restaurants. There are people with young families, who have looked long and hard at what they want for their children. This corner of ‘old Europe’ is becoming a New World for British settlers.
Most of these new immigrants are drawn by their love of rural France, and what it represents. In the case of the British they are also pushed by a growing horror of life in their own country. They want schools where their children will learn at least one language properly. They want streets that are safe, good roads, trains that run on time, clean hospitals, villages with living traditions, towns with vibrant centres, a flourishing countryside.
They’re looking for all the infrastructure of a truly civilized country, which means everything that successive British governments have not considered worthy of adequate investment.
The French, who took the crucial decision to define themselves as a rural society, have provided this infrastructure for their own citizens as of right, at the cost of high taxation. How long they will be happy with their new settlers remains to be seen. Many a moribund French village is being revitalized by foreigners; sometimes the villagers are delighted, sometimes it is undeniable that they feel invaded and worry that their own culture will be smothered.
I miss my new friends and I miss our shared life of dropping in, passing by, sharing meals and setting off on explorations. I miss my garden; in London, I have a ten-foot patio; perhaps the most gorgeous patio in Hammersmith, but still a patio. I miss shopping being a pleasure and I miss having the time to cook. More than I could possibly have imagined, I miss the mountains.
I miss the paradoxical sense of freedom which came from living in a small community, in which the sense of personal safety is significant. On the night Gordon and I drove into London, two schoolgirls out trick-or-treating were raped in the local park. A few weeks later, a crack-head broke into my neighbour’s house by throwing a brick through her sitting-room window and diving head-first after it. Since then, my chequebook and wallet, separately, have been stolen, my car has been broken into and my next-door neighbours have emigrated to Australia with their children, aged four and one.
Of course, more important things have happened in the world.
Andrew and Geoff restored their barn and James English France, their new company, was booked solid with photographers from the beginning of June 2003. They wanted to spend the next winter in Bordeaux, improving their French.
Roger painted a portrait of me, and included my profile in a mural in McGuire’s Irish Pub in Saliès.
Every time he came out of hospital, Glynn Boyd Harte said he’d never felt so good and embroidered sparkling anecdotes about his adventures. In December 2003, at the private view of a new and wonderfully successful exhibition, he felt faint and returned home. A few days later, he died, at the age of fifty-five. The obituaries described his life as ‘a vehicle of genius’ and called him one of the most brilliant and influential artists of his time. I have a fond memory of him sitting by the fire in Maison Bergez and saying to Piglet, ‘Do you realize you’ve got asymmetrical whiskers?’
In France, there is serious talk of abolishing the thirty-five-hour working week.
By order of President Chirac, on 29 November 2002 the remains of Alexandre Dumas were dug up from the small cemetery north of Paris where they had been for more than a century, placed in a coffin draped with velvet and emblazoned with the Musketeers’ motto, Tons Pour Un, Un Pour Tous, and awarded a lying in state outside the Château de Monte-Cristo. This event was shown on television, with leading writers and actors standing vigil. Then, attended by Presidential Guards and four Musketeers dressed by the couturier Jean-Charles de Castelbajac, the coffin was transferred to central Paris and taken in procession from the Senate to the Panthéon, between cheering crowds who had been happy to obey the official suggestion that they should carry copies of Dumas’s works. At the Panthéon, the remains of the great author were interred beside those of the rest of France’s leading writers. In Saliès in 2003, fifty per cent of house sales were to British buyers.
Zoe and Matthieu were married in London just before Christmas. In April, they held a beautiful reception for two hundred people at the concert hall in Tilh, which began with a blessing from the Anglican vicar of Pau and ended with fireworks and dancing until dawn. They have bought a house in Laas, and Zoe has opened a shop in London, to sell Basque linen and ceramics. She has called it Espadrille. It is in a part of Fulham where there are already so many shops, bars and delis selling French antiques, food and drink that people are calling it Little France.
Bibliography and Information
Literature and Biography
La Reine Margot. Alexandre Dumas, tr. Coward, Oxford University Press, 1997.
The Three Musketeers. Alexandre Dumas, tr. Sudley. Penguin, 1952.
Aspects of Love. David Garnett. Chatto & Windus, 1955.
Voyage en Espagne/España. Theophile Gautier. Folio Classique/Editions Gallimard, 1981.
Gaston Fébus: Prince Des Pyrénées. Pierre Tucoo-Chala. Editions Deucalion, 1993.
The First Bourbon: Henry IV of France and Navarre. Desmond Seward. Constable, 1971.
Eugénie: The Empress and her Empire. Desmond Seward. Sutton, 2004.
Cyrano de Bergerac. Edmund Rostand, tr. Burgess. Hutchinson, 1985.
The Man Who Was Cyrano: A life of Edmond Rostand. Sue Lloyd. Unlimited Publishing, US, 2003.
Magic. Edited by Sarah Brown and Gil McNeil. Bloomsbury, 2002.
History and Folklore
Lo Nouste Béarn. Hubert Dutech. Mon Helios, 2003.
Le Béarn. Marcelin Berthelot. Lacour, 2000.
Proverbes du Pays de Béarn. V. Lespy. Lacour, 1992.
The Basque History of the World. Mark Kurlansky. Jonathan Cape, 1999.
Saliès-de-Béarn. Jean Labarthe. Les Amis De Vieux Saliès, 1996.
Légendes du Pays Basque – Les Pyrénées et Leurs Légendes. C Lacour. Editeur, 2002.
La France Secrète et Mysterieuse: Lieux et sources des légendes. Benoit Laudier. Guides Gallimard, 1996.
Contes de Gascogne. Jean-Fraçois Blade, illustrated Jean-Claude Pertuzé.
Autrefois he Pays Basque. Claude Bailhé. Editions Milan, 1999.
L’almanach du Pyrénéen. Gerard Bardon. Editions CPE, 2002.
Eleanor of Aquitaine. Alison Weir. Jonathan Cape, 1999.
Athenaïs: The Real Queen of France. Lis
a Hilton. Little, Brown, 2002.
Cooking and Food
La Cuisine des Pyrénées. Francine Claustres. Editions Sud Ouest, 1994.
French Country Cooking. Elizabeth David. Penguin, 1966.
French Provincial Cooking. Elizabeth David. Penguin, 1968.
La Cuisine Gasconne. Guilou Giacomazzi. Lacour, 2001.
Cod: A Biography of the Fish that Changed the World. Mark Kurlansky. Jonathan Cape, 1998.
Memories of Gascony. Pierre Koffmann. Headline, 1991.
The Cooking of South-West France. Paula Wolfert. Dorling Kindersley, 1989.
Under the Sun. Caroline Conran. Pavilion, 2002.
Cuisine Grand-Mère. Marie-Pierre Moine. Ebury Press, 2001.
Tourism
Gascony & The Pyrenees. Cadogan Guides: Diana Facaros and Michael Pauls; updated Rosemary Bailey, 2001.
Bilbao & the Basque Lands. Cadogan Guides: Diana Facaros and Michael Pauls, 2001.
Pyrenees Aquitaine Côte Basque. Michelin.
Magazines and Periodicals
Pays Basque. Issue nos: 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22. Milan Presse, Toulouse.
Côte Ouest. 2002.
Maisons sud Ouest. 2002.
La Gazette des Ventes. Edition du Sud-Ouest, 1 Route de Fajolles, 82100 Garganvillar. tel: 05 63 95 64 571, fax: 05 63 95 64 57, email: michel.ferrer3 @wanadoo.fr
The News. 3 Chemin de la Mounie, 24000 Perigueux.
Restaurants
This is a random and highly personal list of the restaurants which wormed their way into the story – sadly, in a year in a region justly famous for several great cuisines, I spent far too much time writing and not nearly enough on gastronomic research, so failing to get around even a quarter of the most distinguished establishments. For a more exhaustive listing, consult the Cadogan Guides (see above.)
Auberge du Forail, Place du Forail, St-Palais. tel: 05 59 65 73 22
Auberge de la Fontaine, Square de l’Église, 64390 Laàs. tel: 05 59 38 59 33
La Belle Auberge, 64270 Castagnède. tel: 05 59 38 15 28, fax: 05 59 65 03 57
Blue Cargo, Villa Itsasoan, Avenue Ilbarritz, 64200, Biarritz. tel: 05 59 24 36 30
Le Commerce/Chez Darracq, Amou. tel: 05 38 89 02, email: [email protected]
Chez Pantxoa, Port de Socoa, 64500 St-Jean-de-Luz. tel: 05 59 47 13 73
Chez Tante Ursule, Bas-Cambo.. tel: 05 59 93 7575
Les Près d’Eugénie (gastronomic) and Auberge de la Ferme aux Grives (farmhouse) at Eugénie-les-Bains. tel: 05 58 05 06 07, fax 05 58 51 10 10. Website for the whole resort: www.ville-eugenie-les-bains.fr
La Terasse, 64370 Saliès-de-Béarn. tel: 05 59 38 09 83
Txamara, Port de Guéthary, 64210 Guéthary. tel: 05 59 26 51 44
Tourist Offices
Orthez: Office de Tourisme,
Maison Jeanne d’Albret, 64300 Orthez. tel: 05 59 69 37 50, fax 05 59 69 12 00, email [email protected]
Sauveterre-de-Béarn: Office de Tourisme, Place Royale, 64390 Sauveterre-de-Béarn. tel: 05 59 38 58 65, fax 05 59 38 94 82, email [email protected]
Saliès-de-Béarn: Office de Tourisme, Rue des Bains, 64270 Saliès-de-Béarn. tel: 05 59 38 00 33, fax 05 59 38 02 95, email: Saliè[email protected]
Website: www.Béarn-gaves.com
Endnote
1 Telephone numbers given are for dialling in France. If dialling from outside France, drop the initial zero and substitute the international code for France, 00 33. So the French number 05 59 38 11 18 would become the international number 00 33 5 59 38 11 18.
Index of Recipes
Acacia-Flower Fritters ref 1
Asparagus Omelette ref 1
Axoa ref 1
Béarnais Tomato Sauce ref 1
Beef Daube ref 1
Blonde d’Osso Bucco à la Landaise ref 1
Confit de Canard ref 1
Créme Anglaise ref 1
Créme Caramel au Fleur d’Oranger ref 1
Eton Mess Tante Rose ref 1
Garbure de Fête ref 1
Hot St Clement’s Cake with Jurançon ref 1
Le Milhassou ref 1
Merlu Koskera ref 1
Pastis Landais ref 1
Piperade ref 1
Poule au Pot Henri IV ref 1
Poulet Basquaise ref 1
Pumpkin Gratin ref 1
Rats’ Tails ref 1
Roast New Potatoes ref 1
Salade des Deux Asperges ‘Belle Auberge’ ref 1
Sangria ref 1
Simple Garbure ref 1
Sticky Pork Salad with Lime Dressing ref 1
Stuffed Courgette Flowers ref 1
Tarte aux Noix ref 1
Tomato Tart with a Polenta Crust ref 1
Tuna Kaskarote ref 1
Picture credits
Part titles November, February, March, May, June, July, September, October: Celia Brayfield. December: Editions Artpyr. January: Photo RMN ‘G.F. Tournachon’. April: The Vanity Fair Print Company. August: Musée du second Empire, Picardy (portrait by Franz Xavier Winterhalter).
Plate section Maison Bergez; Squirly ironwork chairs; Lunch at Maysounabe; Esprit de Beverly Hills; Rock Pools at Biarritz; Saliès-de-Béarn townhouses; The Duchess; Piglet: Celia Brayfield. Andrew, out walking with Otto and a guest: Adrian Forster. Poster for Rostand’s Cyrano de Bergerac: photo Marc Hauvette – Editions Lavielle. Saliès-de-Béarn, the bandstand: watercolour by Glynn Boyd Harte by kind permission of David Game (orientation as in the original). Detail from Roger Hallet’s panorama of Saliès-de-Béarn, showing La Terrasse: by kind permission of the artist. Le lac de Bious-Artigues et l’Ossau: Jean Pascal Seyrat.
Deep France
Celia Brayfield is the author of nine novels, including Wild Weekend, Mister Fabulous and Friends, Heartswap and the international bestseller Pearls, as wellFV as a non-fiction guide to storytelling in popular fiction, Bestseller. She was born in north London and was educated at St Paul’s Girls’ School and Grenoble University. Before becoming a full-time novelist, she wrote for the Evening Standard and The Times. She has one daughter, with whom she now lives in West London.
Also by Celia Brayfield
FICTION
Pearls
The Prince
White Ice
Harvest
Getting Home
Sunset
Heartswap
Mister Fabulous and Friends
Wild Weekend
NON-FICTION
Bestseller
Glitter
Acknowledgements
Whenever I come to write this page of a book, I’m acutely and guiltily aware of how much a writer depends on her friends, who innocently carry on their existence, doing all the living that she’s too chicken to do, and never really appreciating that their lives will become her raw material. This book more than any I’ve ever written has been inspired and created by my friends. It is in many ways a celebration of friendship and with all my skill and all my gifts I can’t really express how grateful I am to the people who have made it possible.
First of all, I have to thank Willow and Tony Schulte, for introducing me to the corner of France which they have made theirs, for inspiring me, going travelling with me, welcoming me into their home, checking my facts, enlightening my ignorance and in turn introducing me to many of the people, places and experiences that made my year so memorable.
I’m also more grateful than I can say to Annabel and Gerald Marvin, for being the best of all possible neighbours, and for their gaiety, wisdom and generosity, without which the best bits would have been much less wonderful and the worst bits so much worse.
Without Andrew Downs and Geoffrey Wilkins it wouldn’t have been nearly so exciting; nor would it have been so much fun without Gordon and Fiona Reid, not to mention Cam and Margot. The kindness of Margaret Grieve and the irrepressible spirit of Roger Hallett were as warm as all the sunshine we didn’t have that summer. I’m also grateful to Mary Graham, the o
wner of Maison Bergez, and Alexander and Annie Mill, who introduced us.
Marie-Pierre Moine was kind enough to read my manuscript and save me from looking too much like a complete fool. Denise Spencer accepted the challenge of translating some French rugby songs and Zoe Gelis cast a critical eye over my attempts to translate French poetry. Michael Barker generously shared his knowledge of art history. At Pan, Nicholas Blake, Senior Desk Editor, was a merciless exterminator of inaccuracies. For the reprint, I would also like to thank François Coll, Rose Clark and Malcy Lamotte d’Incamps for helpfully pointing out errors in the original text. Notwithstanding the best efforts of these experts, I accept full responsibility for any errors, misunderstandings, lurid overstatements, sloppy elisions of historical events, excessively free translations or economies with the actualite which may remain to offend the reader. Short extracts from the text have already appeared in The Times and the New Statesman, and I am most grateful to the editors of these publications for permission to reproduce this material.
Sometimes, when my agent, who is Jonathan Lloyd, the Managing Director of Curtis Brown, gives me a ring and I say, ‘How are you?’ he answers, ‘Extraordinary,’ which seems a fair description, particularly over this demanding year when his client was off doing more enviable things than mere writing. I’m also grateful to Tara Lawrence, my editor at Time Warner Books, for keeping her meticulous eye on Mister Fabulous and Friends and commissioning Wild Weekend.
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