Today's word (posted in 2004): en panne
: broken down, out of order
A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse
Last winter Jean-Marc and I bought a tiny chalet in the Alps–so small the previous owners named it "Blanche Neige". So far, we have only tested 3 nains (when Jean-Marc, our son, Max, and friend Jorge went skiing early January). I stayed home, leaving the man trio to share the loft upstairs and the lilliputian quarters below.
This past weekend, Jean-Marc and I drove the 3.5 hours from La Ciotat to Serre Chevalier, to spend time at Blanche Neige and to be with our friends. After a nerve-racking drive in rain and in slippery ice, we made it to the mountains after dark, only to hike past the snow that had made a 3 ft wall in front of the stone cabin. What a relief to make it inside and to light a fire in the poêle à bois before taking hot showers and tucking into bed beneath the rafters. The next day and night went well, more hot showers and enough water to boil pasta… but on Sunday morning we woke up to a worrisome panne….
I noticed it when I tried to flush the toilet. No water. No water, no flush. In the bathroom, one room over, I turned on the faucet. A few drops came out, et c'est tout!
Returning to the loft, I made my way over to the mattress on the floor and crawled back into bed. "On a un petit problème," I informed Jean-Marc, who then began to cite a few possibilities, including our facture d'eau.
Did he just say he didn't pay the water bill?
I looked outside the windows to snow flurries and an icy winter white scene. It was freezing out and there would be no hot shower this morning. And who knew what else was in store? No water meant no coffee, no tea, no porridge. (Porridge may be an exaggeration, but it adds drama don't you think? Oatmeal sounds so boring. Both, however, require WATER!)
Back to the unpaid water bill (if this indeed is the culprit), the old Kristi would have been fuming inside. But the new Kristi (after 25 years of marriage…) stayed calm and reached for the bottle of Evian beside Jean-Marc's side of the bed. With the few ounces of water that remained, I carefully washed my hands. As for my late-to-pay-the-water-bill husband, if he was thirsty he could drink wine! But I needed to have clean hands–the least amount of comfort given the situation we were in!
We maneuvered our way out of the loft (some ducking, some squatting to get past the wooden beams beneath which we sleep). There in the one-room pièce below Jean-Marc opened a door on the floor and entered the cellar below. After fidgeting with the robinet he asked me to turn on the faucet in the kitchen sink. Nada. Pas une goutte.
Around this time we heard our neighbors' voices and Jean-Marc went outside to find Françoise at her window and, across the street, Jean-Yves was standing in front of his house. More than sympathizing with our dilemma, our voisins quickly flew into action. Françoise texted the emergency number for our water company and Jean-Yves sent over a giant vase of hot water (a treasure better than gold!) I quickly washed up (à la bird bath) and dressed–in time to answer the door. An agent from the water company had arrived.
Quelle image! Looking out from our diamond-shaped window I saw a character from another epoch. The young man wore an unusual béret: flat as a pizza and around the same size in diameter!
"Quel beau chapeau!" I said, greeting him. Remembering the varying types of bérets (I bought an Italian one (falls nicely over the ears) for my mom last year) I asked, "Is it Spanish?" I noticed his ears were completely exposed and I had a mind to pull down the sides of the flat béret and cover them. It was freezing outside!
"No, it is from the French army. Ça s'appelle une tarte!"
Next, his colleague arrived carrying a giant cocotte-minute and the two descended into the cellar. With the help of a tank of gas and a blow torch, the men melted the ice that had formed around our pipes and the water flowed once more!
That evening we invited our neighbors over for an apéro to thank them for their help. Françoise brought Danièle, who is lodging with her, and who is doing ski touring with our other neighbor, Jean-Yves, an expert mountain guide. Jean-Yves showed up with un fromage de tête (a delicacy consisting of various meats (ears, cheeks… all combined with a lot of parsley and set with gelatin). As we sat before the fire, chatting, I admitted to Danièle that it is so very hard to ask for help, isn't it? If I had been here alone, I told her, I don't think I would have ventured out to knock on my neighbor's door. I would have tried, somehow, to get by. (I can only imagine, in such a scenario, how things would've looked by day two!) And to think there are people who remain in similar absurd situations…all because they are uncomfortable asking for help.
Danièle reminded me of the French valeur of solidarity. "Especially here in the mountains, in a far-off hameau like this one. We all help each other. Never hesitate to ask for assistance–that is how it works!" On that note I asked our guests about the unusual béret the plumber wore, and the trio each had something to say, beginning with Jean-Yves: "Ce sont les bérets de chasseur alpin."
"They were worn by the military," Francoise, said.
Danièle pointed out that these béret-porting troops were the ones who scoured the mountainside during the war both to protect civilians and defend the border.
Jean-Marc added that, since obligatory military service ended some twenty years ago, with President Chirac, certain young men wear the béret out of regional pride and to honor tradition.
My mind returned to the picture I saw outside our diamond-shaped window, of the young man in his extra-wide béret. I remember how timeless he looked. The scene could have very well been from another time and place, except, thankfully, he was only here to rescue our pipes, and, in so doing, prevent a possible guerre des rose or war of the roses. Which reminds me, my hubby did indeed pay the water bill. It was time to thank him for that…only he was already back outside, trying to fix our car which would not start. Oh no! Another panne!
***
Many thanks for reading. Edits are most welcome in the comments, below.
And we had just gotten our car out of the shop, remember?
FRENCH VOCABULARY
Blanche Neige = Snow White
le nain, la naine = dwarf
le poêle à bois = wood stove
la panne = breakdown, out of order
et c'est tout = and that's all
la facture d'eau = water bill, invoice
la pièce = room
le robinet = tap, faucet
pas une goutte = not a drop
le voisin = neighbor
quelle image = what a sight!
la cocotte-minute = pressure cooker
un apéro = pre-dinner drink
un fromage de tête = pork brawn, head-cheese pâté
la valeur = value
le hameau = hamlet
le chasseur alpin = mountain infantry man
Book birthday! Blossoming in Provence turned 8 years old last month. This book came together during a 21-day publishing challenge. Today's challenge is to ask for help (still so hard to do!) in getting this book into the hands of someone new. Would you kindly consider buying a copy for a friend? Thank you in advance. Time now to have a piece of cake and celebrate!
I hope you enjoyed a little bit of French history in today's story. Come to France to experience the rich culture. Photo by my friend Beth, from her Lavender and Vine Tour, info here.
Our son Max, wearing another timeless hat: after the authentic béret, here's a men's newsboy cap, (more styles here).
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Hi Kristi,
Loved the story today! I think I would have been hesitant to ask for help too and would have probably gone outside and gathered some snow to boil for water! I think many of us just don’t want to bother anybody but that is silly when there are neighbors just waiting to help. You have made some new friends now too!
How handsome Max looks and the commandant!
Your little stone chalet is so cute!
Have a great rest of your week!
Oh, Kristi- what an adventure! Your mountain neighbors are the best, really. And your cabin is adorable. Thank you so much fot posting photos-it looks like a beautiful area!
Love the cottage in the pure white snow with red berries! Wonderful that you can have adventures like this together. What are a few glitches? That’s just life!
What a sweet story about friendship. I’m impressed with how quickly help arrived too! Congratulations on your book birthday, it’s one of my favourites! To celebrate, I’m going to offer it as a giveaway in my January newsletter … my birthday treat! Enjoy your stay in your cozy mountain getaway! Bises!
I see Mr Sacks went with you! 😜
Quel beau chapeau…
I’m so glad I found your website a few days ago. Really enjoying reading about your experiences. Merci mille fois!
Love the photo with the Mountain Ash tree! What is the French name? Some winters we have tons of red berries, some there are none. When it snows and there are berries the snow piles up they look like trees full of reverse Santa Claus hats.
Kristi, you have totally charmed me once again with this heartwarming alpine story. How quickly your neighbors came to your aide and turned the whole “en panne” episode into an event you would not have wished to miss! The photos are great and the one of Max will make many a young lady’s heart go “flip-flop” … to use an old-fashioned expression. Many, many thanks and my best wishes as always.
aid … my mistake
Great story to cheer a dreary winter day here.
And BTW, years ago in Chicago we needed a blow torch to unfreeze our unheated basement water pipes. We would leave the cold water running a tiny bit to keep the water flowing but of course the hot water would be frozen.
What is Fbird? Spelling – infantry
Really enjoyed your story and photos. Stay warm!
Thank you for catching those, Lauren. Si helpful! Instead of Fbird, it should be à (poêle à bois).
Alanna, thanks for identifying this tree. I think it is a sorbier in French, but I might be confusing it with something else.
Thank you so much, Patricia. That is a wonderful help! I appreciate this!
Barbara, thank you for this helpful edit. I am so glad to have you with us. Bienvenue !
Another wonderful story! Congratulations on your mountain pied a terre. I was wondering, could you have boiled the snow?
WOW! has it been 8 years already from working on “Blossoming in Provence.” What a fun 21 days! Hope all continues to go well for you and your family. Hugs
Thank you, Betty. And mille mercis for coming up with a charming name for this book. 💕
You always hit the nail on the head re French culture…I’ve been reading (and buying your work) since your very first book – I also relocated to France in 2007 and I celebrate that decision every day, in great measure because of the culture of gentillesse sp? and the simplicity of life here (despite language difficulties and bureaucracy). Your stories and your shared lives are treasures indeed as well as the ongoing French language education you provide, grass roots! I look forward to your latest book. Blessings, Ra Martin
Thank you so much, Ra. Your words mean a lot to me!
Our dear Kristi,
This is such(another!) wonderful post!
You have filled us with insight,warmth and inspiration to not be afraid to ask for help(!!)(nor give it gladly in return)–and also pride in one’s history,relatives or country.Oh! How very needed this is nowadays!!
Thank you!!
Congratulations on your book birthday!!
It seems impossible to be 8 years old!!
I remember reading and so enjoying it for the first time,and will now will pull it out of our our library(where all of your–our favorites!!) are enjoy it again.
It has been a cherished gift to all I have given it to.
Love
Natalia xo
I had my husband read your story today. It brought back memories for him as in the army he was in the Chasseur Alpin troops. He said the beret did a good job of blocking the wind over one ear. He felt very handsome in the winter uniform, which was a big white cape. He was in the army in the 60’s and was stationed near Grenoble for the winter Olympics where the army had to work. He learned to ski when they put him at the top of a mountain in skis and told him they meet him at the bottom.
I hadn’t heard that they didn’t have the draft any longer. About 25 years ago we got a notice for our son, who was born in France to appear in France to be inducted into the army. My husband was working overseas, our son was away at the university of Illinois. We had to wait until they got home to go to the Consulate. They even sent gendarmes to my husband’s mother’s house looking for him.
What a pleasure to read your comment, Marybeth. Grenoble, or near there, where your husband was stationed, is not that far from where this story took place. What a picture you paint with the big white cape! Wonderful uniform!
Thank you, chère Natalia 💕💕
Kristi, your little retreat home looks so cosy with the fluffy snow and the mountains in the background! It makes me miss winter in Canada. I’m glad that the frozen pipe situation was resolved relatively quickly with the help of your generous neighbours and hope that everything is okay with your voiture. Greetings from (scorching) hot and sunny NZ!
This is a terrific blog today, Kristi. I love the sturdy little winter cottage, the tabletop with the snowy doughnut on top, and all
the red berries. Likewise, thanks to the reader who identified the tree as a Mountain Ash. I will ask my sister who lives in the
California Sierra Mountains whether they grow there. J-M is a very talented man and you are lucky to have married him; he seems to be quite able to rise to the occasional panne! Good neighbors are also a tremendous blessing. I hope we readers will receive more contes et photos de la montagne.
Not all porridge is oatmeal, but cooked oatmeal is porridge. Yes, porridge is a good word.
See this definition, https://www.dictionary.com/browse/porridge
Your mountain retreat in the snow looks wonderful! Smokey must be in seventh heaven when he gets to spend time in the snow there!
Lovely post with wonderful photos!!
But I do wonder:
Why it was Jean-Marc’s responsibility to pay the water bill and not yours?
Why did you not melt snow for tea,coffee,porridge,or oatmeal
And I see that Jean-Marc also had the responsibility for the car!?!
Oh Robert, c’mon!
I would imagine that- like most couples- Kristi and Jean-Marc have a divison of responsibilities.
And in any case, why would it be your place to question? They’ve been successfully married for 25 years, so apparently, they know what they’re doing.
I agree that the post is an entertaining one, and one wth captivating photos.
Can’t we just leave it at that?
P.S. Kristi, especially love the photo of J-M in his chartreuse ski jacket. Might you want to share where to find said jacket?
Thank you, Sarah. I enjoyed the definition and now feel good about the word (which did seem so dramatic… wasnt it Little Red Riding Hood who ate porridge? )
Hi Kristi
What a terrific chalet. I particularly like the idea of a cellar accessed by that intriguing-looking staircase. One thing puzzled me: why did one of the workers carry a giant cocotte-minute into the cellar. Was he going to use a pressure cooker to make a meal down there?!
Regards
Nick
It was Oliver Twist who got kicked out of the orphanage after asking, “Please, sir, can I have more?” (about the porridge). I can’t get past the idea of what porridge looks like to actually eat it.
It was Oliver Twist who got kicked out of the orphanage after asking, “Please, sir, can I have more?” (about the porridge). I can’t get past the idea of what porridge looks like to actually eat it.
Hi Nick, Your guess is as good as mine! I should have followed them down to the cellar, but it is only big enough for 3 people. I will have to ask Jean-Marc if they all didnt pause for some coq au vin!
Thank you Joanne! Jean-Marc appreciated your comment too!
Thanks, Trish! Also, Jean-Marc tells me he borrowed the jacket from Max, who got it at Jules Melquiond sports in Serre Chevalier. Its a Colmar. But they dont sell this one anymore.
Hi Robert, Glad you liked the post and photos. Thank you. About the water bill…as Trish said, above, JM and I divide responsibilities. Re the car, I helped with the jumper cables 🙂. And, back to the water issue, we did fill a large can with snow and set it near the fireplace. I forgot to mention it.
Thanks so much for the retail info, Kristi, and unfortunately, you’re right: that striking Colmar jacket is no longer available 😫
We’re in the Alps too, but further north and east (Haute Savoie). Enjoy your glorious chalet and the attendant snow, winter berries and raclette!
What a delightful cottage! I am confused on this word, though:
“in the one-room pièce…”
In the vocab, you say that pièce = room, but is that different from salle? or redundant in this sentence? Seems to refer more to the hatch in the floor to get to cellar. A little confused, but astonished at how quickly help came to you — great story!
Geneviève, Thank you for catching this one. So helpful! I wanted to emphasize it was one room (but did not realize I was saying: in the one-room room). I will need another word…. any ideas?
https://digg.com/2020/arrival-train-la-ciotat-upscaled?fbclid=IwAR3oM0Ua3m88gQ2kcO-EvyY6fVZ_E2SWL-ZLpQ9TR0g-3t7HAdc8-aoqyrQ
An item about the famous film of a train arriving at La Ciotat.