Tante Suzanne et Oncle Louis

The Orsonis were a warm and welcoming family.  Taking on a teenage girl for a year represented a major responsibility.  Oncle Louis was tall and thin. With swarthy skin, dark hair and blue eyes, he epitomized the typical Corsican. He had a certain presence as Père de Famille but I remember the sound of his laughter as well.  Sometimes in the evening he would do a dictée with me.  This entailed my writing down a short passage he dictated. French is a sneaky language with silent letters, intricate verb tenses and the irrational gender of nouns.  So a dictée requires the mastery of slippery grammatical rules.  

Tante Suzanne was a bundle of energy. Short, pretty with blue eyes and blond hair, she was easy to laugh.  She kept the house, clean and tidy.  Meals were healthful and prepared with fresh ingredients. Each week she was off to the outdoor market on Wednesday and Saturday.  Sometimes I accompanied her.  We would stop along the way to say hello to acquaintances. She would politely inquire “how they were feeling.” Rather than responding “fine,” This inquiry could develop  into an extended conversation involving one’s liver, one’s bladder or even the kidneys. 

During the school year, Tante Suzanne would sit down with me after lunch.  We would both sip a cup of espresso sweetened with brown sugar cubes and discuss my school work. I needed help with the history-geography class. Patiently, she would explain and elaborate the lesson.  One day we discussed Henri IV (Good King Henry)and his religious conversion.

Henri IV looks quite jolly!

An aside: la poule au pot (a chicken in the pot) is an expression attributed to Henri. He is quoted as saying”« Si Dieu me donne encore de la vie je ferai qu’il n’y aura point de laboureur en mon Royaume qui n’ait moyen d’avoir une poule dans son pot.” (If God extends my life, I would  make sure that every worker in my Kingdom has the means to have a chicken in his pot.) Back then the peasants were lucky to have meat on Christmas and Easter.

La Poule au Pot

In the winter there was a ball at Pierre’s university in Lille. I had nothing to wear and I fell in love with a fluffy green dress in a magazine.  Tante Suzanne told me she would make it for me.  Together we went into Paris to buy the fabric.  Later, I remember coming downstairs in the late evening. She was working at the dining room table.  The chandelier illuminated her head as she bent over the sewing machine surrounded by billowing sea-green silk.

A lovely painting of a ball in the 1800s. La Valse de l'Empereur - W. Pervuninsky  

The ball was a home-coming event and the whole family was to attend. Oncle Louis was an engineer and had attended L’Ecole National d’Arts et Métiers as well.  For the ball Luce and I needed to learn to dance the waltz.  In the evenings after dinner Oncle Louis would put on a record of Strauss waltzes, maybe The Blue Danube.  We would take turns dancing with him; whirling around the living room and laughing like crazy.

Renoir's Dance at Bougival

On Sundays we enjoyed a delicious dinner at noon.  Often there was a roast or a large steak that resembled a tri-tip in shape and size.  The meat was accompanied by sautéed potatoes and a special dessert or pastries.  Afterwards we girls did the dishes while Once Louis and Tante Suzanne relaxed in the living room.  They would have coffee and Tante Suzanne would smoke one cigarette.  (That was her only cigarette of the week.) Oncle Louis often put on a record of classical music.  After the dishes, I would come in to listen.  I learned to love The Four Seasons by Vivaldi.  When I left France, he gave me a copy of the record.  The Four Seasons

Here is a selection of pastries.  The second row from the right is a selection of "Babas au Rhum." These are spongy cakes bathed in rum syrup and filled with whipped cream!  Délicieux!

An Alpine Vacation

Brela Beach - Corsica

In the month of August the Orsoni family was heading off to Corsica.  Oncle Louis’s family came from the island. There was a seasoned cottage with simple amenities where the family spent their holiday.  It was decided that I would NOT join them.  As I remember, the thought was the facilities were too primitive for a delicate American girl.  Instead I spent a month in Megève, a village in the Alps with Tante Suzanne’s sister and family.

Here's a map of France.  See Megève in red near the border with Italy.  Corsica is the island at the bottom right.

Megève today.

The Orsonis dropped me off on their way to the Mediterranean.  Megève is a picturesque village surrounded by mountain peaks. The Maquins (Tante Suzanne’s sister and family) had rented a chalet for the month of August. 

This chalet reminds me of the one we enjoyed.

After a discussion it was suggested I call Madame Maquin, “Marraine" which means “godmother” in French. The family included 5 children that came and went during my stay. Their married daughter, Thérèse, her husband, Pierre and their two little children spent the entire month.   I remember feeling that the little ones were at the same level linguistically as I was. I played “house” and “store” with them.

Thérèse and children: Jean-Michel and Sylvie.

We did a lot of hiking around Megève.  Sometimes we found les fraises des bois, wild strawberries or les myrtilles, miniature blueberries.  I remember we made a tart with the blueberries that turned out a bit too runny…but delicious.

Hiking around Megève.

Me in saddle shoes, Michèle and Pierre

A pastry chef at work.

Une tarte aux myrtilles

There was a swimming pool at the Club de Sports and some days I went for a workout: 100 laps.  From my journal, I see that I did a lot of reading and Marraine taught me how to knit.  I began a sweater for my Father in a soft brown wool.  I sent it to him for Christmas although one sleeve was considerably longer than the other.  This became a standard family joke.

The pool at the Club de Sports

The crowning event of that month was a three day trip into the Alpes with Michèle, the second oldest daughter in the Maquin hierarchy. The previous winter she had lost her husband, Guy, on their honeymoon.  He had been killed by an avalanche in the Alps.  Nevertheless, she wanted to go back up into the mountains. It was as though she wanted to be closer to him. This trip necessitated renting special climbing gear: coats, pants, cleats, a sleeping bag and a backpack.

Here we are taking off on our adventure.

There were 8 people in our party: 2 male guides, 4 men, Michèle and myself.  The main guide was thin and wiry, with a long white beard and sharp deep-set blue eyes. He led our group and the other guide brought up the rear.

La Mer de Glace

We started out taking a cable car and then headed out into the snow.  The path went down to the glacier: La Mer de Glace (The Sea of Ice which is 7 Kilometers long and 200 meters deep) and then we hiked up the glacier.  In the afternoon we scaled a vertical cliff and arrived at the Refuge de Requin where we spent the night.

Le Refuge de Requin

A couple managed the refuge (shelter) and spent the entire summer there.  Once a week someone hiked up and brought them provisions. That night about 20 people were spending the night. It was an international group and many languages collided in the crisp air. We all ate a supper of soup, bread, cheese and chocolate.  I remember setting the table and helping with the dishes.  We bunked down in an upstairs room, all in a row on the floor in our sleeping bags.  I slept next to the guide.  As he snored away, I looked through a round portal at the full moon. I felt like Heidi, the heroine of a favorite childhood book.

The upper area of the Mer de Glace where the snow is being pressed into ice.  You can make out those crevices in the ice.

The next morning we climbed to the upper part of the Mer de Glace.  We were all attached at the waist with a rope. This was the most frightening part of the trip for me.  As we made our way down, we had to jump over deep crevices in the ice that were hundreds of feet deep; the walls, an icy blue. I was attached to a portly man and I thought if he fell down into the crevice, I would surely be pulled along.

At some point we found ourselves in a more civilized area with hordes of tourists who had come up on a cable car.  The spot marked the tri-point where France, Italy and Switzerland are co-joined. However, the actual spot must be at a higher elevation on Mont Dolent.

Mont Dolent

The entire experience was wonderfully amazing and terribly frightening.  I still ask myself why alpine enthusiasts climb mountains.  I found this quote from the famous Scottish climber Tom Patey (Apes and Ballerinas):

"If everyone made a point of remembering Darwin, we might be spared a lot of mountain philosophy and psychoanalysis...'Why do you climb?'...'Because it's the natural thing to do.'"

Frolicking with French Friends

Le Château de Fontainebleau.

After I had been in Montmorency for a month, Tante Suzanne and Oncle Louie invited me to extend my stay and spend an entire year.  They felt that if I really wanted to learn French, I needed to spend more time.  I was ecstatic!  Oddly enough, I didn’t seem to be worried about missing my family or my friends back home!  This astounds me because I was close to my parents and we got along well. I wasn’t on some teenage jailbreak. I was having a fabulous time. 

I wrote a letter to my parents.  The cost of a phone call would have been prohibitive.  After some back and forth, it was decided that I could stay in France for a full year and then Luce would come to Washington for a year.  

Every week I wrote my parents a letter.  Usually I wrote a little each day so they could share in my experiences.  Back then the most affordable way to send a letter was by using an aerogram which was a self-stamped, light-weight piece of paper that cleverly folded up to form an envelope. Airmail was the way to go from Europe, a regular letter could take a month or more by boat!

I can't remember the names of these kids...or what we were doing!

From day one, I had a wonderful teenage time.  We hung out with a gang of kids.  Reading my journal, it seems that everyday we did something fun.  There were trips into Paris to do some sightseeing; everything from the Eiffel Tower to the Louvre.  On other days we went into Paris to the movies or to the swimming pool. Luce and I were usually joined by other boys and girls.

Outside the Château de Versailles.

During the first week, we planned a surprise-party, which was a dance party.  It was to celebrate the end of the school year. With other kids, we spent several days sweeping out the main room of the château and stringing up lights.  While we prepared the locale, we played records and danced.  I must have been quite the show-off.  I taught everyone the Jitterbug and the Charleston. They taught me to dance the paso doble.  We listened to French singers as well as American groups.

Sitting on a Deux Chevaux (two horses)

The Citroën 2CV (Deux Chevaux) was a simple, cheap car that could run forever on one tank of gas.

That summer I played tennis just about everyday with different kids.  We also spent time at a nearby volleyball court.

During the year we made day trips to Fontainebleau and Versailles.  One time we did a bicycle-rally to Chantilly which is about 20 miles away.

Le Château de Chantilly

In my journal, I write of family times with relatives of the Orsonis.  These festivities entailed a special meal and maybe some champagne. I remember once we girls were doing the dishes after a family dinner, we finished off the dregs of wine at the bottom of the glasses. This made the washing-up a giggly affair.  Speaking of alcohol, I must say, I do not remember wine or spirits being part of all the teenage parties and get-togethers.  At meals, we normally drank water.

Doing our nails out on the patio with neighbors.

We also spent a lot of time just talking.  French young people enjoy discussing politics as much as their parents.  Kids were very aware of current news events.  There was much friendly banter which was probably partially fueled by flirtation. I don’t remember any pairing-off or dating. We just had fun in a big group.

During that year, I remember the song "Petite Fleur" by Sydney Bechet:  See if you remember the song.  Here you go .

Language, Wine and The French Flag

When I arrived in France I had completed only one year of middle school French.  Consequently, upon arrival, I understood very little.  Luce had many friends and they were friendly and welcoming.  But I remember standing around and finding their conversations very, very long.  In those first few weeks, my head would be spinning at the end of the day.  My Mother had packed my bible in my suitcase. This fact is remarkable in that I don’t think of my mother as particularly religious.  When I queried her about the existence of God, she bought me a copy of The Golden Bough written by Frazer in 1890.  Let me quote Wikipedia here: “Frazer proposed that mankind progresses from magic through religious belief to scientific thought.”  Nonetheless, I was grateful for the bible in ENGLISH!  I found it relaxed my brain to read The Book of Ruth or the story of Deborah and Barak!

It’s a funny thing about your brain and absorbing language. It happens quite magically.  One day after a couple of months, I woke up and I could understand almost everything.  Comprehension just crept up on me and sprang into action.  On the other hand quasi-self-expression took many more weeks.

I attended classes with Luce for a week or two.  In France, the school year finished at the end of June.  I particularly remember her Italian teacher who took the time to chat with me.  He taught me a phrase that expresses the French as well as the Italian view of wine.  

“Qu’est-ce que c’est le vin?”  - “What is wine?”

“C’est le soleil en bouteille.”  - “It’s sunshine in a bottle.”

I met an English girl who was staying with another family in Montmorency.  One day we decided to go into Paris together to do some shopping.  We wanted to buy gifts to take back home.  I had decided to buy a French flag for my brother, Mark.  I found a shop and bought a large flag. It was wrapped in a long sheet of newsprint.

Here we are walking along. I apologize for these scratchy old pictures.

As we walked along the paper loosened and blew away. The flag unfurled and was whipping around in the breeze.  Before I could wrap it back up again we heard whistles and shouts.  A minute later we were accosted by two gendarmes!  Remember this was the period of the Algerian revolt.  The government was worried about terrorist attacks. They felt that walking down the street with le drapeau tricolore flying could cause unrest and possible reprisals. Eventually they captured the wayward paper and we wrapped up the flag.

Annie and my flag.

Montmorency and a First Supper

Montmorency cherries!  I'll have to admit I never saw a cherry tree while I lived there.

My new French family picked me up at Orly Airport.  We arrived in Montmorency in the late afternoon.  The town is located north of Paris in the hills.

Note Montmorency in orange. It's in the Département de Val-d'Oise.

A view down the hill in Montmorency.

La Place du Marché- Montmorency's market square.

The Orsonis lived in a semi-detached house on the enclosed grounds of a "château."  They had an end unit with a patio behind the house.  There were garden paths meandering between the units.  A wall enclosed the compound.  Up near the main road was the “château” which was more of a dilapidated manor house.  It was empty and residents were able to use the formal rooms for parties.  An open grassy area spread out in front. Among the trees was a tennis court.  In the spring and summer we played a lot of tennis with neighborhood kids.

Here's Annie playing tennis

The Orsoni house contained a kitchen, living and dining room on the first floor with French doors out to the patio.  Upstairs there were three bedrooms, a bathroom and a water closet. The finished attic served as another bedroom.  I was given a nice bedroom with a bed, a desk and an armoire for my belongings.

That first afternoon I walked with the girls to the bakery for a baguette.  In my journal I write: French bread here ...is thinner and 10 times as long."  Later we stood outside and talked with a couple of neighborhood girls.  I remember the time as being very long since I understood little of their conversation. I had only one year of middle school French under my belt.  Undoubtedly I was also exhausted after the 20 hour flight.

Dinner was at 7:30.  The meal began with a green lettuce salad, then fresh peas followed by cheese and oranges.  This was the usual menu for evening supper.  Tante Suzanne was somewhat of a vegetarian.  We ate lots of fresh vegetables and fruit with a small amount of meat.  Since she shopped at the local market, we ate what was in season.  When string beans were flooding the market, we had them every other night.  They were always delicious with a pat of butter and a sprinkle of parsley.  

Often the lettuce was purchased from a nearby farm. It was grown in long greenhouses.  Sometimes I was sent to get it and my memory is of a pleasant walk through hill and dale.

When I see this painting: Red Roofs by Pissarro, I think of the walks I took around Montmorency.

A luscious head of lettuce.

The dressing for the salad was made in advance at the bottom of the bowl.  Then the lettuce was piled on top so it wouldn’t wilt.  The salad was tossed at the table.  The standard dressing was 3 tablespoons of oil to 1 of vinegar, salt, pepper and maybe some French mustard.  This is the dressing I still make today with an added shake of garlic powder.

We often had a Camembert for the cheese course or a piece of Gruyère, or Port Salut. 

A Camembert Cheese

That first night I was asked which bread I preferred.  There was a fresh, crispy baguette that we’d bought at the bakery that afternoon and then there was a VERY dense loaf of whole wheat bread. I picked the baguette and everyone started laughing.  As I learned, the children preferred the baguette but during the week we ate the whole wheat loaf which was undoubtedly better for us!

Bread is an essential of life. When the French discuss the current cost of living, they often reference the price of bread.

A display of bread in the baker's shop.

My French Family

Orly was a small airport back then.  Charles de Gaulle airport did not exist.

When I arrived at Orly Airport, there was no one to greet me.  After a time I went to the visitor's desk to request that they announce my arrival over the loudspeaker system.  A few minutes later my new family appeared.

The Orsoni family included four children: Jean - 23, Pierre - 20, Luce -17 and Annie -13.  I addressed the parents as Oncle Louis and Tante Suzanne.

Here I am with Oncle Louis and Tante Suzanne. This picture was taken several years later when I was 23.

During most of my stay, Jean was absent.  He was completing his military service.  I believe all young men had to serve for 2 years or so.  At that time Algeria was fighting for its independence from France.  In May of that year, there had been a revolt in Algeria and Charles de Gaulle, who had left the government 12 years previously, returned to head the 5th Republic.  Jean served in Algeria for several months.  As I remember he was stationed in a lookout on top of a mountain.  With his fellow soldiers, he conducted surveillance of the desert below. It was a lonely spot.  Tante Suzanne sent him care packages of dried fruit, books and yarn.  He and his buddies spent long hours knitting!

Rugged Algerian mountains.

Pierre, the second son, was in college in Lille.  He attended L’Ecole National d’Arts et Métiers and was studying to be an engineer.  He came home for holidays.  I’ll have to admit I was smitten with him, but then again I was smitten with several French boys and young men at the time.

Me, Oncle Louis, Grand-père, Pierre and Luce. I believe we were attending a wedding. I didn't have a party dress but I did have my white gloves!

Luce and I became close friends.  That year she was studying for her Baccalauréat exam.  This test is taken at the end of one’s high school studies and is the ticket to move on to university. She needed to study assiduously that year but we managed to have a lot of fun.  Luce returned with me to the States the following year.

Luce and I in the gardens of Versailles.

We took a picture of Luce with all the books and dictionaries she used for her baccalauréat with a Latin major.

Annie and I attended classes together although I was a bit older. Due to my rudimentary knowledge of French, I was placed a year behind in school. In spite of this, I seemed closer in maturity to Luce.  Annie was a cheerful, fun-loving girl.

Annie after a snow storm -an exciting and rare occurrence in the Paris area.