Good news vs Bad news

In a week where I am fed sickening news on Bing that I am unable to stop reading – Obama admits torture to some folks, (yes we know that Mr. President), a man murdering his girlfriend’s baby, Rolf Harris appeals for clemency with regard to his indecent assaults.. one fails to see what this world has to offer that is good and positive, thereby giving us a reason to live. 

Then, I walk around our local Parc Paul Mistral in Grenoble. I see clusters of people all over the green - some engaging in a Tai Chi lesson or American style line dancing, children getting wet in fountains, or taking a turn at go-karting. People of all ages come here to exercise – indulging in power walks and jogs. And suddenly I am filled with a deep sense of contentment. The Alps surround us. Nameless flowers of all colours bloom in haphazard patches. I feel blessed. It is all too easy to watch the news and feed on negativity when you only need to step outside your home and take a walk. The joy of living returns.

Stop Rape!

Perhaps this is a grim title for the new year when the months should stretch ahead filled with hope. Every time I hear a woman being attacked by a man or men I feel a sickness in my heart and wonder what can we do to stop this? How do we educate these monsters? My therapy is poetry. If I write about it, it frees my soul. It raises awareness. But in reality, the crimes of the world carry on regardless of our exchanges and horror. We are humans. We feel, we act, we kill, we torture. I tried to stop a fight the other day in a supermarket. A man was beating up a woman. I could feel the man's anger pulsating through his veins, his muscles, his rage spilling out, unstoppable like a tidal wave. I felt better for having intervened but close friends and relatives feared for my safety. How did I know he didn't have a knife? I didn't. I just acted on impulse and instinct. So for now I am taking resort to words. A poem dediated to the latest victim of gang rape in India, very close to Kolkata, my home town. The rape was an order from the village elders as a punishment for her falling in love with a non-tribal man. Such is justice in some parts of the world. Thirteen men have been arrested. Here is a tribute to the brave young girl who I believe is recovering in hospital.

Stop!

When will it stop?

My vagina is not a highway for you to ravage,

Your strength does not exist purely to crush mine.

Why use me to vent your anger at yourself?

To humiliate, subjugate, torture a fragile human being;

Is this your lasting legacy?

Is this your sole purpose in life?

Does it amuse you to soil me?

Does it amuse you when they announce your death sentence?

It does not amuse me.

I am already dead.

A Chowdhury  Another gang rape in India January 2014

Marché de Noel – Christmas market in Grenoble

We often debate about the ‘quality of life’ in France. When the works on the tram extension and lunch time closing of shops strain our patience, we struggle to understand what is so great about life in France. Then the Christmas markets appear with twinkling lights and wooden huts bursting with artisanal goods and we think ahhh this is ‘it’. 

‘It’ can be various things – sipping champagne and letting juicy plump Normandy oysters slide down your throat, tasting ‘patate au four’ with raclette’, jacket potatoes smothered with melted raclette cheese, a special alpine favourite washed down with ‘vin chaud’ a kind of mulled wine, or a pyramid of chocolates, handmade and heavenly, each decorated so artistically it is almost a shame to devour them. 

Other food stalls sell ‘tartiflette’ a potato and bacon dish with cheese baked in a large paella-type dish. In another large wok, I find diot sausages simmering in wine and onions.

A shop naturally dedicated to selling large discs of cheese is popular amongst the visitors.

The sweet shops sell  hot ‘churros’ long doughnuts rolled in cinnamon and sugar, and Belgian waffles covered in a topping of your choice, Nutella, Chantilly cream or any other cholesterol rich food. Why the French are so healthy generally, given their cuisine is rich in cheese, wine and cream, we fail to understand. The secret is ‘control’. The ladies especially know when to say ‘non merci’ and stop after a sensible glass or two of wine and a small portion of dessert. They are also keen on exercise (at least the people who live in Grenoble), running up and down mountains and skiing to name but a few activities.

The craft stalls are a joy to behold. Handmade old fashioned toys, lamps and shawls the list goes on and on. It is not cheap but you pay for the skill and labour. It is a pleasant change from buying things made anonymously in factories in foreign land. Here you can speak to the artist himself and praise his handiwork.

I asked permission to take pictures of the stalls and the ‘marchands’ (merchants) as there are strict laws regarding ‘droit à l’image’, a person’s right not to have their image published. In the world of social media where people snap pictures of others without giving this right any particular thought I think it is quite wise. I extend sincere apologies to those passerbys I have accidentally "shot".

The market runs from end of November to 24 December. Place Victor Hugo will soon be bare and the party will move indoors. On Christmas Eve the French lay down a feast consisting of oysters, langoustines, foie gras (duck liver pâté) and thirteen desserts. A cabbage soup diet is highly recommended in the New Year.

When in Nantes

 

In Nantes we discovered this impressive Chateau des ducs de Bretagne, the handsome abode of the Dukes of Brittany in North West of France. The word Britanny comes from the Latin Brittania, land of the Britons, but we won't tell the French that. Therefore, Bretagne is also known as Little Britain.

The chateau was built in the late Middle Ages by Duke Francis II and his daughter Anne of Britanny. The turrets, the moat and the ramparts ticked all the boxes of what one expects from a castle except…floating torsos and heads of business men along with their briefcases. A sign of times? Financial crisis? Most intriguing.

Travel tips: Due to a complicated schedule we took an Easyjet flight from Lyon to Nantes and then Nantes to Gatwick. By the way, please note that Easyjet has now reduced its hand luggage dimensions from the standard size to a slightly smaller version thereby making it easier for them to charge you extra. This was frustrating as it meant carrying a shoulder bag instead of my normal cabin baggage, a trollley case. The new dimensions are on the confirmation.

Food: Galette de blé noir was the best crepe I have ever tasted. Buckwheat pancake sounds healthy and is delicious. Fillings are typically ham, mushrooms and cheese. The artisanal cider was a joy to drink.

Nightlife: Narrow cobbled roads were lined with restaurants and bars. One night we ate a lamb tagine and couscous. We did not expect North African food to be so well cooked in that part of France as it is mainly a southern dish but it was perfect. Street entertainers such as fire eaters and mime artists put on lively acts. I was accosted by a friendly one. The nightlife centered around the Chateau and the Cathedral.

 

Nearby attractions: We travelled by train to Sable d'Olonne to attend a wedding. The trains are efficient and cheap. The wide sandy beaches of the Vendée reagion are a great place to relax. I got many hours of writing done using an old-fashioned notepad and pen and not a laptop, internet phone or Kindle in sight. Once in a while it is great to disconnect and travel back in time to not so long ago, a world without internet or mobile phones.

The other interesting place to visit is Puy du Fou where once we saw a Gladiator show.