Wednesday December 24 th 2014 Chris eve at chambres d’hotes Pierrette et Georges Bats in Hagetmau 18 km

After a pleasant evening with Constance, Rudy, Bass and me with good food and drinking and discussion and stories we went to bed without having had much time for my blog. This morning some filming, among others, the departure of Constance, me and the two animals. We tried to find our way further north in the mist. Our route was constantly on quiet roads.
In the fog we arrived in the beautiful village Braasempouy, where we had the first opportunity to drink coffee. This morning in the hotel Con had asked for hot water for her thermos to make coffee . The good fairy there gave water, but not hot. So no thermos of coffee for us this morning. In Brassempouy we were supposed to wittness the oldest female statue in the history of mankind. There are many prehistoric caves with more kinds of discoveries. Not open to the public. But the cafe was an open-air about the period of the last ice age and it showed a few enlarged copies of images and statues found in the Stone Age. (Photo). The bar tender told us with enthusiasm about the many northern Europeans who lived in this French village and that they were an asset on the social scene. When we came outside half an hour later, the fog was gone, blue sky, no wind.
Lunch in an idyllic park in an equestrian center: déjeuner sur l’herbe ( a painting of the impressionist painter Manet). (photo).


So we walked to Hagetmau. Horse Leon was tied on a grass plot, dog Tosca at our house on her blanket with her coat on, a quick snack and a drink. And then walking to the center. We soon got a ride from a lady, but in the village we found all restaurants closed. Then just quickly do our Christmas shopping and quickly some fisternullen (tinkering). Then 1-2 km walking back, diner, converting Leon, trying to get in touch with our families. With daughter Marieke in Norway despite many efforts, no contact, which feels frustrating on Christmas Eve. Poor tel. connections, SMS can not be sent, e-mail is not functioning. Shit. Also no time to respond to all the reactions of the last days. Sorry.

In my head everything revolves during the day: the vacation trip we made years ago to France with friends and their children. The latter were amusing themselves with the greeting “bonjour old whore”. In Dutch this rimes! I was reminded of the musical Anatevka, in which I saw how the father had to give his blessing to his emigrating children and I had to think of our cousin Theo on Curacao, who said that living on an island means always having to say goodbye. C’est la vie.

Two roe-deer cross the road. Con and I talked about what is most important in life. She learned the theory of Maslow: first the physical needs: eating first, 2) safety / security, shelter / heat 3) social contacts 4) appreciation, recognition 5) and last self-development. I do not know if I’m doing it right, but it’s interesting to think about it. When you walk, you wonder what you desire most and what you miss the most, especially with Christmas.

 It is Christmas Eve now at 6.30 pm. All restaurants closed. Then quickly doing some basic shopping, a few km. walk uphill “home” and see if we can get warm this evening in the icy kitchen, which is filled with indoor plant pots, chairs, rubbish. cherish the “good” life. Someone to be jealous at, is not it?
The kitchen door to the outside is always open. Outside it is around the freezing point. In front of the kitchen door, in the courtyard, Tosca is barking at everyone who goes in or out of Grandpa and Grandma’s, our landlords. Constance conjures up a Christmas dinner on the table. The gas cooker does not work, but there is a basic microwave. In it water is heated for the soup, made from a stock cube. Next Con cooks water for the macaroni. Cheese and ham, some sausage salad, a bottle of wine. The door outside is kept closed with a broom placed against it. Tosca barks again, the broom falls and someone from the renting family Bats (funny, because bats is Limburg dialect for buttock) comes in with a plate foie the grasse with stewed pears and a heat blower. If the tiny Jesus in the cradle, which Con had placed on the table, could stand straight already , it would have fallen over of astonishment, so attractive, between the 2 tea lights. I did not feel cold anymore and the fatigue made me feel satisfied. A Christmas to remember.

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