Cheeses

Been a month of Francing, filled with experiences much the same as one would find anywhere in the world, but somehow different... the wines are a little bit more special, the Christmas dinner self retrieved from the forest, oh and cheeses... lots of cheeses. Its not all high-end different though, the humble baguette has eased it way into an important part of my day, and on the really low end, so has pavement scanning, pleased to report a whitewash result against the dog doo thus far...

A month of overindulgence what with 'welcome to France' excuses and then the silly season, at times I have felt a little like the day would arrive when I would get sold to a white aproned butcher type for my liver. In retrospect a noble way to go, the festive season has deepened the friendship I have with foie gras, some things about French culture should not be messed with.

As for new experiences, it was my first almost white Christmas in the Jura. Much to the disappointment of the proud owners of pre-booked ski packages, the weather is unseasonably dry and warm, so only -5 °C'ish and mainly blue skies. Didn't stop the ice though, a pleasure to be above the fog that seemed to grey the rest of France.

Being from Africa you can normally lead the civilised world along with the stories of wild animals that stroll our streets, so strange to come to one of the more developed countries in the world to have my first encounter with wild boar, admittedly encountered for Christmas dinner. Another slightly less wild animal that I regularly encounter is one of the adopted kids that rule the house.

Meet Pacha, one of the kids, must have been a hard night, although difficult to tell with cats.

Just before Christmas we took a trip to Avilley, a small village near Vesoul. France seems to be the chaotic mass of humanity called Paris and then zillions of little villages that still lurk in times gone by.
















A view of Avilley in the winter light.

And when in a village it seems like you try to keep the wild boar in check by getting out of the house with your dog. The French equivalent of fishing. Perhaps it has nothing to do with actually shooting boar.
















I tagged along on a day of hunting, down from the mountain into the fog. Seemed like fishing really, only occasionally did the animals seem important, guys bonded, ate, drank and then headed home in the evening. Well, a duck did see his demise, three quick wild boars scuttled to safety across a field and there was this very confused chevreuil who couldn't understand why three orange jacketed guys just let him run on by... guess he didn't read the quota sheet. He will tell that escape story to his grandbambies for many years to come.





















A good thing about fishing is getting out into the fresh air and are able to just take in the trees while you wait for the next boar to bite.
















Petite Chatel a little village in the Jura, beautiful winter blue skies, don't let that fool you to thinking it was warm.






















I guess if you chose a thing to symbolise France it would have to include a church, all types... but I like the old stone ones.
















Christmas day with the frost on the lawn and trees, it didn't often get above zero... luckily Santa's reindeer are used to landing in the ice.
















The Jura mountains usually skiable by this time of year had only a smattering of snow. Walking up the road from the wedding reception spot.
















Ice skating in the arvies on a lake near the town of La Moura, this becomes a cross country ski piste once the snow gets into full swing.
















New years, loved one, bubbly and the Eiffel tower - pretty cool.

Wishing all the best for 2007, trust you will make it a wicked year!