A little bar/restaurant in the bay of Locmaria, on the island of Groix.
Conjoint
(kon-zhwan)
noun, masculine
spouse
Just off the coast of Brittany, on a small island habitée by Groisillons and teeming with French tourists on wobbly bicyclettes, there is a quaint port called Locmaria, where The Drunk Boat overlooks the bay at high tide (and low, for that matter, but for the purpose of this conte the marée shall be high, high as the curious individual bathing in its shallow waters)….
"Ah, nature fresh and free. Yes, freeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
I can just hear his French words echoing across the sandy beach, translating themselves in midair before reaching The Drunk Boat bar on the boardwalk above, near to which a red-faced tourist stands hesitant. Red-faced, not because she is a native of the desert, which she is, but because her Frenchman (he who bathes in shallow waters) has been caught, once again, en flagrant délit with Dame Nature. Yes, caught red-handed (and mud-in-the-hand) as you will soon discover.
It isn't the first time he has been found courting La Dame; take him to the powdery depths of the canyon at Roussillon, and he'll brush red and yellow ochre across his stubbled face. "A tradition," he explains (the earth-smearing, not the stubble). Bring him to a crowded beach in his beloved Marseilles, and he will inhale the salty waters beyond (via a noisy nose gargle). "Good for the sinuses," he exclaims. Cart him off to the wild garrigue and he will begin chewing on the local herbs (good for the gums, I wonder?). Go where he may, and he will find a way to press the earth unto himself. He's Monsieur Nature.
Back at the bay in Locmaria, it is another day in Paradise for Monsieur Nature, who can be found applying mud—sloshing it on from neck to knee—only, he calls it vase (pronouncing it "vaz," as if a neat word would render his act less, well, filthy).
Standing knee-deep in the ocean, he scoops up the smelly vase, slops it on his arms and across his chest before a vigorous scrub-down, oblivious to the audience now gathering before him: there are the seagulls, beady eyes bulging, and the little crabs looking on, astonished, and even the mussels—clinging to a nearby rock—have opened their shells for a look-see. "Get a load of this," they clatter, their long, salmon-colored tongues wagging.
This, dear reader, is my mud-faced conjoint and that curious behavior of his, in a clamshell, is the difference between him and me; the difference, I now realize, between really living life and poetically lusting after it from the boardwalk above.
habitée (habiter) = inhabited
les Groisillons = inhabitants of the Island of Groix
la bicyclette = bicycle
The Drunk Boat (Le Bateau Ivre) = the name of a bar along the boardwalk
le conte = tale, story
la marée = tide
pris en flagrant délit = caught in the act
la Dame Nature = Mother Nature
la garrigue = wild Mediterranean scrubland
la vase = slime, mud, mire
le conjoint, la conjointe = spouse
Listen to the word "conjoint" in the following sentence: Je vous presente mon conjoint. Please meet my wife (or husband). Download conjoint.wav.
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Oh wow, I LOVE the photo, the colours. 🙂
Tu connais le poème “Bateau Ivre” de Rimbaud (écrit quand il avait seulement 17 ans) qui commence “Comme je descendais des Fleuves impassible …”?
Very lovely and evocative, Kristin. I’m reminded of an Edgar Lee Masters poem, found here: http://shellybean99.xanga.com/161299735/item/
A question on current usage–would it be more common, today, to hear, “je vous présente mon conjoint” or, “je vous présente ma femme”? The former feels a big legal!
Votre mari est bien dans sa peau, non? Le mien aussi. Your descriptive narrative brought a smile to my heart and made me laugh out loud – a lovely way to begin my day. Merci, Krisin. p.s. – the photo is divine as always.
whoops – that should have been, “Merci, Kristin” <3
Perhaps some of your readers would enjoy the Wikipedia entry on “Le Bateau Ivre.”
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Le_bateau_ivre
Kristin,
What a joy to read the picturesque description of your beloved Jean-Marc, “pris en flagrant délit, à marée basse”, covering himself with Mother Earth’s natural gifts -here, sea mud- with such energy and enthusiasm!
I love the great scrubbing down scene – brilliant description, oozing with smiling subtlety and delightful pinch of humour.
It is a known fact that elephants, rhinos, warthogs, etc, enjoy mud baths, and that sick domestic animals can regain health and fitness with clay, rolling in it, licking it. Great natural animal instinct, here translated into a public mud scrubbing performance by your very own “Monsieur Nature”.
I get the impression Jean-Marc would approve of the use of “argile verte”(´green clay´). I can’t find any in England, so, when I was in Biarritz a month ago, I bought some “argile verte illite”, in powder. You can find it in pharmacies and “Magasins Bio” (‘Health food shop’)
Today is supposed to be “La Fête du Travail” (Labour Day) but it is also “La Fête du Muguet”, a very French tradition, to wish everyone good luck and happiness. A very Happy 1st of May to “les conjoints” Espinasse and their family, with lots of traditional “brins de muguet” (´twigs of lily-of-the-valley´) “porte-bonheur” (for good luck).
I love the imagery this story brought up for me. Great writing and a beautiful photo!
Passant & Jim D.: Thanks for the info on Le Bateau Ivre. Great to have the link.
…à l’autre Jim: I liked the other poem too!
Marshall: I think “Je vous présente ma femme” is the one. Newforest, is this correct? Help us out!
Linda: keep that smile in your heart.
Newforest: Glad you mentioned “La Fête du Muguet”. Peggy, who sometimes comments here, brought me a pot of Muguet day before yesterday (bonjour Peggy & George!). I’m going to plant it in the garden!
Quelle marvelous histoire…vous avez un mari qui comprends comment one is, vraiment, a part of Mother Earth. When I come in the house hot, soaking wet and a general dirty MESS after rooting around in my bit of earth, my husband shrinks away from me…ugh-ing out at my earthiness. I pretend to chase him and have him think I’ll get “some” on him!
We are all wired differently creating this goofy sometimes curious and frustrating mix of people who try to live together; and best of all–!!!–perhaps share in each other’s strangeness and make it part of ourselves. Last night I came in after a little walk around the yard. My mari hugged me but pulled back and said eww, you’re wet! No, I explained, my skin is only cool from the evening air…”oh.” (him grateful for being safe from my earthy self) Screech (the laughter kind)! (Me, now, remembering) Mr. Persnikety, I reckon!
So, our tango continues. We mark our 25 wedding anniversary this summer. I think I’ll suggest renewing our vows…down by the river! Hee, hee.
I had to chuckle Dear Kristin…wonderful tale of conjoints and I cannot top it unfortunately. Love the photo as usual. Happy May Day, and I will check out the poem by Rimbaud.
XOXO