FRANCE, MY BLOG, PÉTANQUE AND STUFF ON MY MIND

This week, my blog blew past 750,000 views on its way to 1,000,000. Like my age, it's just a number. But it's an impressive number nonetheless.

BREAKING BOUNDARIES When I was programming late-night blues or weekend world music on our local NPR affiliate back in the USofA, I was constantly getting myself in trouble. For instance, my blues shift began at 11PM and I was supposed to sign off at 1AM. Since it was the last programming of the day, and since we were going to close down the station until the morning shows began several hours later, I kept playing as long as I wasn't too tired and I knew that night owls were still listening. But no, the station manager said. Sign off time was sign off time. And by the way, don't talk too long, even if folks tell you that they like your "This Day In History" commentary. And while we're at it, don't break format. Just because Tinariwen, a Tuareg group of Algerian origin, feels like a logical progression of blues/rock, it ain't the kind of blues that most people who listen are into. Refrain.

Boundaries like that have always bothered me. I view boundaries as challenges. Sometimes, that attitude gets me into trouble, like at the radio station. More of often, breaking boundaries has led to personally satisfying outcomes. I suppose that's why this blog jumps all over the place. France. Food. Politics. Random opinions on random subjects. For some people, that's breaking format. I do get notified of the occasional Unsubscribe. So be it. No hard feelings. 

If you're still with me, thanks for sticking around.

LIVE AFRICAN BLUES

PÈTANQUE I suppose that you could describe pètanque as a cousin to bocce or curling. You send a ball (boule) down a court toward a target with the goal of getting your ball closer to the target than your opponent's ball. Relatively simple to learn and difficult to play with any real skill, outdoor pètanque courts (terrians) are visible in about every village in France. In Quarante, we have a sizeable steel building dedicated to indoor play, a boulodrome. In all the years that we've lived here, the boulodrome has only hosted one day of pètanque annually, a round-robin match called a concourse with the proceeds going to charity. Otherwise, community yard sales and Christmas markets and other non-pètanque uses have filled the venue.

A local restaurant has a pètanque court for the use of its patrons and some folks convinced me to join them. It can make for a fun summer evening, played with teams of friends, some with a more competitive spirit than others, followed by a beer or a glass of wine. So I wondered why the boulodrome remained empty. Long story short, I gathered some of my friends at the local bar and we decided to pursue a more intensive use of the boulodrome. We contacted the mayor, worked through some typical French bureaucracy that is still ongoing after two years, and eventually got possession of a set of keys. We now open the boulodrome to the public every Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday evening. Not a big crowd, but growing as the word gets out and the weather moderates. It's a story of how grass-roots community action is a thing, even in France. I'll dedicate a full post to the story in future.   

CLIMATE CHANGE If you haven't been paying attention, I have news. I've said it before. Climate change is real. I can't say whether it's due to the burning of fossil fuels, part of a natural cycle, or failure to pay proper obeisance to Oden. But climate change is real. Here in the south of France, months of searing heat and severe drought were preceded by windstorms that downed whole forests and have been followed by downpours causing widespread damage due to flash flooding. We've lived in the region full time for 12 years, not a lifetime sampling but long enough. Heat and drought have become serious, escalating concerns. Not believing that the change is real will have serious consequences, regardless of whether the language of change is scrubbed from government websites as in the USofA. 

I don't know if anything can be done to moderate the changes. I do know that, if the changes are inevitable, we have to prepare for the consequences. I've discussed this before. In the case of agriculture in France, the strict rules regarding what grape varieties can be grown in which regions to qualify for various wine appellations must be loosened and new strains that are heat and drought resistant must be developed if viticulture is to survive and thrive. The rules regarding importing cattle feed in some cheese producing regions have already been relaxed. (Interestingly, some farmers have insisted on abiding by the old rules for the sake of tradition and the taste of their product.) 

Zoning and planning needs to take into account sea level rise and flood plain management. We'll need smart, principled politicians and an informed electorate. Piece of cake, right?  

MY STEPSON We all need a purpose in life, the reason that we wake up every day knowing that we are needed, that we have responsibilities for the health and welfare of others. For me, that reason is Séraphin. His mother works in Paris but has a second home in Quarante. I water the plants in the garden. I turn on the boiler so that she has hot water before she arrives. And I keep a supply of cherry tomatoes on hand to feed Séraphin. Called a tortoue in French, he looks exactly like the Eastern box turtles of my rural New Jersey roots. He comes running when he hears my footsteps. (Yes, turtles can approximate running.)  He'll probably outlive me, but that's OK. It's enough to have been an important part of his life.