The Significance of 1000

Meeting
The meeting with Jean-François to make final changes to the guided tour text was effectively aborted because Jean-François couldn't come. It's something that happens very frequently in these parts, I am finding. However, I had a good apéro dinant with Daniel and some of his friends: Ann, Jacques and Claudine, all very interesting people. We went to Ann's house for coffee afterwards as Daniel's cafetière was broken. Her house has an unusual layout and ground floor walls that have a smooth finish rather than the rough finish that is common here. The effect, since the walls were far from flat although with a smooth finish, was what you night see in an English cottage a couple of hundred or so years old. I'm finding that there is no standard layout to the houses here, or rather the old ones; each has been built according to the space on the land, hardness of the rock and contours available.

The Significance of 1000
In the Mayor's end of year briefing last December he announced that a census during the year showed that Mollans now has a population of 1001. So what? I thought. In fact, it turns out to be quite significant. Firstly, it opens up for the village a new level of possible subsidies from the state and also helps to keep alive the village school. There is a general move in France to consolidate facilities such as schools and hospitals and whether you keep such facilities or not depends on the number of inhabitants. The number 1000 is apparently an important threshold.

There's another angle to this which could well lead to a Clochemerle moment (of which there have already been a few). At 1000 inhabitants, Mollans has the right (but not the duty) to have a chemist in the village. At the moment, the nearest pharmacy is in Buis, 8km away. In fact, there are two chemists in Buis. The number of chemists in towns/villages is strictly controlled by the professional body and goes according to the population. As an aside, there are two types of chemist in France: one which corresponds to an English chemist and one that can sell only toiletries and harmless therapeutic concoctions; they can't even sell aspirin or paracetamol. It is the former that are controlled by the professional body. Buis originally had only one chemist but a spat between a doctor and the chemist many years ago produced the need for another chemist. Buis added the Mollans population to its own to create a catchment area that justified having two chemists. Now Mollans is entitled to a chemist in its own right, what happens? Watch this space............

Gardening and Translation

Gardening
The weather has continued to be changeable but with sufficient good spells to allow some gardening and the odd game of boules. The hanging baskets are now planted although it will be a few weeks before they really start to look good. And the back garden is starting to take shape. The couple of salvia pratensis I pinched from the roadside last year have not only survived but also self-seeded, so I now have four of them. I've also identified some poppies coming up, gifts from the wind or birds no doubt, and one sunflower which surely came from one of the bird feeders. That apart, I've planted some tigridia pavonia and transferred two redcurrant salvia from pots in the front that they were taking over. A planned visit to a big garden centre just outside Avignon next week should see the main shape of the back garden in place. And my seeds are starting to germinate: stocks, tomatoes and broccoli all showing, plus (so far) one morning glory from seed collected off the plants I grew last year.

More Translation
The translation of the guided tour is now “finished”, meaning subject to second thoughts, of which there will be some. I'm going to Daniel's tomorrow lunchtime to meet with him and Jean-François Colonat to make final adjustments. The English text has come out to about 4/5 of the French, which is about right and should leave some space for photos and maps. Just as well we are not doing a German version, which would have been at least 30% longer than the English.

Two points emerged for me from the translation work. First, I seem to be losing my English fluency in proportion to my gain in fluency in French. I took the precaution of asking friends Steve and Jo to read the text for infelicities, of which they found several. In particular, I had translated monument aux morts as monument to the dead, which of course it is. But that is not what we say; we say “war memorial”.

Most of the other inelegancies they found were the result of very long sentences in French. I eventually found a method to tackle these but didn't always manage a good English version. The method was firstly to parse the French sentence into clauses, then translate the clauses, then find the best way of combining the clauses into English sentences. That should have given me the best chance of producing a good English version but still resulted in some clumsy phrasing. I found that one long French sentence generally became 2-3 English sentences.

Easter and Translation

A Quiet Easter
Easter has been quiet because the weather hasn't been good: overcast skies and one day of drizzle. However, today spring/summer returned with a temperature of 24 degrees and bright sunshine. That meant: gardening, a (successful afternoon of boules) and tourists roaming around the village. There's no competition here to spot the first tourist (as there used to be in The Times to report the first cuckoo) but tourists roaming around and taking photos are definitely a harbinger of summer. And I have seen the first poppies appearing at the roadside. There can be whole fields of these when they really get going and a few have already self-seeded in my garden.

Translation
The previous few days of inclement weather have made me do more work on translating the village guided tour. I'm now on page six of ten. I came across a phrase I couldn't translate, droit de souquet, and couldn't find in my dictionary. So I tried it on the crowd at the pizza tonight in the Bar du Pont and no one there knew what it meant either. Daniel knew it. It was a right endowed on communes in the late Middle Ages to exact a tax on the consumption of alcohol, which for some unknown reason had to be 17% (of purchase price). The revenue from the tax could be used by the commune as it deemed fit. This tax was levied in Mollans and, perhaps ironically but very appropriately, was used to fund piping water from a nearby spring into the village via a fountain and wash-house circa 1713. That was the first time that the village had had fresh water other than from the river or rain water butts.

Another interesting fact to emerge from the translation work was an explanation of why the chapel at one end of the bridge spanning the Ouvèze and which overhangs the river bed doesn't just fall into the river. It has no obvious support. It turns out that stones were cut to run under the floor of the chapel and into the adjacent square with a sufficient weight and length to counterbalance the weight of the overhanging chapel. The chapel also was built in the early 18th century so somebody around the village then understood those old Greek mathematicians. But, if somebody in the future drills a hole in the wrong place in the square...................

Translations and Orchards

A Busy Weekend
Daniel's son Kevyn descended on him on Saturday together with a half-dozen friends. I had invited Daniel to eat with me that evening but, in view of Kevyn and friends' arrival, Daniel reversed the invitation. So, the boules square was fully used and afterwards the gang of students set about cooking a leg of lamb and veggies. The following day was a celebration of the birthday of one of the friends, Laure, and Daniel had already invited me to meet Jean-François Collonat (of whom more later) for aperos at midday. So I stayed on for the barbecue and birthday celebration (Happy Birthday To You.... seems to be international and was duly sung in several languages). And on to boules again...............

Guided Tour Translation
Jean-François Collonat does a guided tour of the village, relating its history along the way, every weekend in July and August and on special occasions in between. The tour lasts about an hour and a half. Over the past 18 months Daniel has been busy videoing J-F doing his stuff and subsequently has drawn up a commentary, based on what J-F recounts, to go with the video. The video will be converted to DVD and I offered to do an English commentary to go as an alternative to the French on the DVD. So, I am busy doing a translation of the commentary text. I had the idea of producing the text as a brochure, in the two languages, and both Daniel and J-F have accepted this. With a few photos and maybe a map or two added, it should make for a good 16-page brochure. And a budget is available to print it.

A brief perusal of the French text made me think that the translation would be straightforward. In the main it is, apart from some obscure terms relating to times past. However, there are a couple of things that have caused me to stop and think carefully. Firstly, some words/terms simply don't translate; for instance: Mairie. “Town Hall” doesn't get it; you don't have them in villages and anyway that's more of a “Hotel de Ville”. “Village Hall” doesn't get it either; it's a different thing, a salle de fêtes or similar. “Mayor's Offices” won't do the trick either as that is a town hall and, anyway, small English villages don't have mayors. In the end I decided a Mairie was a Mairie and left it at that. Notaire is similar; we don't really have an equivalent; “notary” is probably the best translation but how often do you encounter that word in English? The other problem has been that the French use very long sentences. Three or four subordinate clauses is the norm and 6-7 are frequent. You simply can't do that in English without creating incredibly complex (and opaque) sentences. So, to hell with faithfulness to the original in that respect, I've chopped the French up into much more manageable English sentences. At the moment, it's working out at about two hours per page, which seems to be reasonable progress.

Vaison Market
I hadn't been to Vaison market for a while so I went to check it out. At this time of year it's just moderately crowded, not heaving as it is in summer. Asparagus is now in full flood, white, green, thick or thin. I personally prefer the thin green stems. And the prices are beginning to fall and will fall further, even though they are half the price of asparagus in England already. I also caught sight of the first strawberries from nearby Carpentras, reputed to be the best in France. The really good ones are known as garrigues and tend to be small and misshapen, not what you would find in UK supermarkets (which is their loss).

Inevitably I also bought some plants, including a clematis I think may be a Gypsy Queen, like the one I brought back from England. It looks very similar from the label and is the same flowering period but had no name on it and the stall owner didn't know its name. It will go outside the front door.

Orchards
Fruit-growing being a principal occupation around here, the area is full of orchards. At the moment the almond trees are full of bloom and the peach trees are also starting. Before long the cherry trees will join in and there will be whole panoramas of blossom. Not to be outdone, the local roadsides are displaying irises (mostly various shades from light blue to mauve), coronilla and the wild wallflower, merysimum. Broom and valerian are just beginning to show but will be in abundance in a couple of weeks or so.

Flowers, Books and Films

Back Again, With Plants
I'm now back from my visit to England to see my mother, kids and friends. Everything went well; and daffodils everywhere, in profusion..........very Wordsworthian.

I came back with a suitcase full of plants, mostly bought at 99p to fill holes in my terrace wall, but also a Guinée rose and a clematis bought at Wisley. I find the Guinée rose difficult; I'd had it in Reading but with only modest success. However, the specimen I found looks strong and so I shall try again here; it's worth it for its exquisite perfume. I feared for the clematis which, despite being a late-flowering variety, had put on considerable growth and had to be doubled up in my suitcase, cushioned by dirty shirts. But it survived the journey and is now planted on my terrace at the back.

Meanwhile, Mana had acquired some plants which she called Hépatiques Trilobés, from a bank of wildflowers near here. A dictionary search identified these as Liverwort, a very English name, but I'd never seen anything like them in England and they are wild flowers supposed to grow just about anywhere in Europe. They are very short and have a blue anemone-like flower. Interestingly, Keeble Martin doesn't include them in his book but the RHS encyclopedia I have identifies three varieties as Hepatica(for which the Trilobés doesn't help much since they are all Trilobés), but a search in a French wildflower book I have suggests they are Hépatiques Nobles. The name Liverwort suggests they have had some medicinal use in England in the past but I'm puzzled by their absence from Keeble-Martin's book and by my never having encountered them in England. Anyway, I acquired some too and they are duly planted in the back garden.

Films and Books
Daniel had kindly invited me to eat with him on my return so that I wouldn't have to cook that evening. Over the meal, I mentioned having seen Slumdog Millionaire and Mana's reaction to it and we got into a discussion of books and films thereof. I initially took the stance that you can't compare books and the film of the book because they are different media: what you can do in a book you can't necessarily do in a film and vice-versa. Daniel took a different tack; he reckoned it could be very interesting to compare the two, not to assess similarities but to ask questions about why any differences have been introduced. Some may be for banal reasons of what is possible in one medium or the other but others may give much more cause for thought. I think he's right and it's a point that hadn't occurred to me.

Cinema and England

To The Cinema
I went with Mana, a local friend, to see Slumdog Millionaire at the cinema in Buis yesterday evening and was impressed. I found the mixture of realism and fantasy, Bollywood and other genres effectively blended and the whole well acted and photographed. A thoroughly engaging film, if not a great one. Mana was not impressed, having read the book and finding the detail on the poverty from which Jamal had emerged lacking and dismissing the tinseltown episodes as American, although I think they were Bollywood. Plenty to talk about afterwards, anyway.

The film was dubbed into French, which is what happens to most films here that will run on the main cinema circuits (which doesn't include Buis and neighbouring towns). I find the range of films shown locally much better than that I was used to in Reading, primarily because the French seem to accept subtitles easily. Subtitling is what happens to any film that is not going to be a blockbuster on the main cinema circuits. That turns out to be a very important difference. If you can accept subtitles, then you don't have to bulk out cinema programmes with inferior films because you are constrained by a single language. You, literally, have the whole worlds films to choose from. So, since I have been here, I have seem films originated in, for instance, Morocco, Mongolia, Algeria, Spain, and China, all good films that I would never have had the chance to see in Reading.

The cinema in Buis has promoted a debate on whether films in languages other than French should be dubbed or subtitled. The general argument is that dubbing compromises the integrity of the film, whilst subtitling obviously introduces some visual interference, with the inference that purists will opt for subtitles. I suspect the debate is academic; economics rather than aesthetics will determine whether films in other languages are dubbed or subtitled. However, sometimes you can take your pick; Slumdog Millionaire was earlier showing in a subtitled version. The important point for me is that, if you accept subtitles, then a far wider variety, and a greater overall quality, of films becomes available.

And Back To England.............
Tomorrow I fly back to England to see my kids and my mother for a week. I gather that the weather in England, or the southern part, has changed for the worse: lower temperatures and rain. Which is a pity because here the weather is forecast to stay fair for the next several days. However, I love England in the spring (“Oh to be in England.....etc) and so will doubtless find things to please me. And I shall no doubt bring back various plants in my suitcase for my garden here.

Résumé en Français
Je suis conscient de ne pas avoir fait les résumés que j'avais proposés. C'est plus difficile que je ne l'avais pensé: pas le français mais le résumé. Cependant, je les écrirai de temps en temps.

Gardening, History and a Joke

Gardening and History
The weather has been getting better and better. For the last few days I've been playing boules in temperatures in the low to middle 20s. My car was recording 29 degrees this morning but it's usually optimistic by a few degrees. The days have been spent gardening. I've pinched a couple of inches off the footpath at the back of the house to plant a row of irises given to me by friends Steve and Jo, who have been splitting and replanting theirs. They won't do much this year but should look good next. Have also dug two more holes in the road in front of the house and planted a climbing rose (Iceberg) up against a lime tree on one side and a clematis (Jackmanii) to climb up the honeysuckle on my side. Scraping the paint off the beams in my bedroom will have to wait.

As an alternative to Sudoku over breakfast, I have been reading a history of Pierrelongue, a village 3 km from here along the road to Buis,. It seems there's a still unresolved dispute between Pierrelongue and Mollans over grazing and timber-gathering rights on Mt Bluye, the large hill (3000ft) which spans the two villages. Nothing remarkable in that except that the legal process started in the mid-18th century. There's not a lot that grazes on Mt Bluye now, except a few wild boar, so maybe that's why the case is still unresolved; or maybe everybody just got too tired or forgot what the problem was. Mt Bluye is also the source of many of the springs that bring water to the two villages, which might be more of a problem (viz. Jean de Florette and Manon des Sources) except that there seems to be plenty of water for both. Pierrelongue didn't get its own fountain (i.e. source of fresh water) until as late as 1898. (By contrast, there are eleven fountains in Mollans, dating from ~1770). Before that the villagers of Pierrelongue had to cross the river on a large plank, which occasionally got chopped up for firewood when the weather got cold. Or they could use the river water but the people of Buis had a song that ran along the lines of “we piss in the river and the Pierrelongais drink our piss”. Local villages pissing on one another, or doing something rather more violent, seems to have been all the rage in the 14th and 15th centuries but is a sport that has fortunately died out.

Joke
Here's another of René's stories, which he tells in an Alsatian accent that I could never reproduce. A local yokel introduced himself to a new neighbour and enquired what he did for a job, as he clearly wasn't a farm worker. The newcomer replied that he was a professor of deductive logic at the nearby Strasbourg university. After thinking for a few moments, the yokel asked: “Er....what exactly is that?”.
The professor replied: “ Well, let me give you an example. For instance, I see that you have a kennel in your garden, so I deduce from that you probably have a dog”.
“Yes”, says the yokel.
“I notice also,” says the professor, “that there are toys in your garden and I deduce from that that you have children”.
“Yes”, says the yokel, increasingly impressed.
“Since you have children,” continues the professor, “I conclude that you probably have a wife and that you are heterosexual”.
“Yes again”, says the yokel, now extremely impressed.
A few days later the yokel yokel meets another (yokel) neighbour and tells him about this brilliant professor who has moved into the village. The conversation proceeds as follows.
Yokel 2: “What is this new guy a professor of”?
Yokel 1: “Deductive logic”
Yokel 2; “What exactly is that”?
Yokel 1 (puffing out his chest): “Well, let me give you an example. Have you got a dog kennel in your garden”?
Yokel 2: “No”
Yokel 1: “Homosexual!”