Let's jump right into today's narrative and improve our French! The audio and vocabulary list follow…
When I am old and wrinkled—well into the troisième âge—I want to race along the shores of Brittany on my Mobylette, that most groovy of French bikes with an engine!
I want to be an eccentric vieille dame. I don't want to care about what anyone thinks, as long as I am not imposing myself on their philosophie de vie. I'll ride my old bike along the seashore. I'll wear black goggles and wrap a long wool scarf, in orange potiron, around my neck. Off I'll fly, scarf ends flowing in the wind.
I'll let go of the pedals, WHEEEEEEEEE…! and sing a song by Yves Montand—or a tune from Les Misérables—depending on my mood.
I'll pack a picnic with all my favoris. Inside the panier there'll be boiled eggs, anchoïade, Gratin Dauphinois, pungent cheese, a soft baguette, and a flask of Earl Grey. There'll be tangerines to eat and a few squares of dark chocolate.
I'll gather delicate coquilles from the foamy seashore and tie them to my shoes. You'll hear the jingle of seashells when I pedal by.
My voice will be agreeably hoarse, not from les Gauloises or le vin but from whistling all the day long—a habit I'll have picked up at the beginning of the century when a certain Frenchwoman cautioned: "Les femmes ne sifflent pas! Women don't whistle!" That's when I puckered up and blew another tune… and another… and then one more!
I hope to have a dear old friend, one who is much more excentrique than I. She'll dye her white hair rouge vif or aubergine. We'll tchatche about the current generation and how people need to loosen up and 'profiter un peu de la vie,' enjoy life a little, like us.
I'll say, "Pépé—les oursins!" and my old man will return from the rocky pier where he has spent the morning hunting sea urchins. When he cracks open their coquilles, revealing the mousse-like orange roe, I will remember that real treasures don't come with a price tag.
I want to live near the seagulls so that I may slumber beneath their cries and wake up to the whoosh of the sea. I'll push myself to a stand, smooth back my white locks, adjust a faux tortoiseshell comb, and say "Dieu merci!" for another day.
Before I tuck myself into bed at night I will, once again, empty mes coquilles into an old metal cookie tin, a treasure from long ago. Looking over to my seashells, I will give thanks: my cherished, tired tin runneth over.
***
The interesting thing behind today's story, written in 2006, is how the various details have almost all come true! While we do not live in Brittany, we do live near the beach, where my husband enjoys catching sea urchins. Missing from this story is my dog (born 6 years after I wrote the piece). I could not have imagined the joy Smokey would bring!
FRENCH VOCABULARY
Click here to listen to all the vocabulary below
le troisième âge = retirement
Mobylette = a particular model of moped, a vintage Mobylette
une vieille dame = a venerable lady
une philosophie (f) de vie = a life philosophy
orange potiron = pumpkin orange
favori(te) = favorite
un panier = a basket
l'anchoïade (m) = anchovy purée mixed with olive oil
un Gratin Dauphinois = a potato casserole with milk, butter and cheese
une coquille = a shell
la Gauloise = brand of cigarettes
le vin = wine
excentrique = eccentric
rouge vif = bright red
aubergine = eggplant purple
tchatcher = to chat (away)
le pépé = grandpa
un oursin = a sea urchin
Dieu merci = Thank God
Now for some "Drunk French"-just for fun, see the video below (click on the image or the arrow, center, to view it. Turn up the volumn).
Can you see the locals braving these icy waters? Wearing wetsuits they walk through the sea daily.
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Vous etes un ecrivan eminent
I think I’d even dye my hair aubergine to be a part of your story.
Aubergine colored hair….reminds me of my cousin when he was 21! 😁
What a beautiful story—from so long ago. It clearly stands the test of time. That “tired tin” continues to “runneth over.” And makes me look toward the future with great hope.
Please do be careful Kristi!
Your fantasy reverie with the flowing scarf conjures up the picture of the terrible fate that befell your compatriot Isadora Duncan when visiting Nice a few years ago …
How did potato casserole develop the name un Gratin Dauphinois? Sounds like a story to research to me 🙂
I love love love this story. Merci. I WANT a Mobylette!
Hi Kristi,
Love the story and reminds me of Jules! I hope she is doing well!
Thank you, Eileen. Mom is doing well 💕
What a delightful read! Une vraie joie de vivre. And yes, this story does remind me of everything you have written about your mother. I can see you doing and being all you describe as well. Thanks as always for a great start to the day.
This wonderful piece reminds me of the warning poem by Jenny Joseph titled “When I am an Old Woman, I Shall Wear Purple “ Do you know if it?
Great piece!
Incredible! I remember when you first published this. A ride on the wayback machine for long time fans of yours. You will never get old, Kristi, because you have always been planning to live vivaciously until the end.
Marcia’s comment above made me curious about “dauphinois” potatoes. My guess was that they were the favorite of a “dauphin” or prince, but no. For those who have not already looked it up, the name comes from the Dauphiné region in south-eastern France. That is where cooks originated the “gratin” style of cooking potatoes and other tasty casserole dishes.
Great story. I had forgotten about the tin, which is one of my favorite images.
I just turned 60 last spring and imagined a splashy beginning to my own troisième âge.
Then covid hit and family sadnesses, but this reminds me to try to get my groove back.
When you wrote this, you were so far from approaching 60, but the implicit challenge of your piece is “Why wait?”
Why, indeed?
Kristi, I echo the fear of Ian Pitt (above) regarding Isadora Duncan & her long scarf. I can still see the scene in the movie. If you have not watched the movie about her, please do so.
No worries, Sandy and and Ian. I will tie up that scarf!
I have “When I Grow Old……” framed and on my wall. That has been my goal for decades. The bonus is that my grandkids think I’m fun.
Made me think of Jules as well! ☺️❤️
Dear Kristi,
Old age gives a person the opportunity to say and do all those things that still live within not said or done during the younger days. Now if only the body could stay as sharp as the mind and spirit, youth could be eternal…
💙 Smokey! Fortunately the joy our pets bring can be immense at all ages!
…..Kristi.. just think.. I am 80 years old today and happy as a lark! I am a little slower than I was 10 years ago, but still 35 inside! Age is a lot about attitude toward life and I have always had a very positive and grateful one. My life has been filled with travel and adventure so no complaints in that realm. I still have many friends that I communicate with each day and a loving family. Those are the real treasures in life…and I consider you one of them. Your blog has given me so much pleasure over the years! You are a gifted writer and we all are the richer for it! I wish you continuing success…. Cheers, Judi Dunn, Tallahassee, Fl.
Wonderful story and so French. The joy for life no matter the age—the enjoyment of all things of the senses. We
should all wish to be a lover of life at every age.
Joyeux anniversaire, chère Judi. 🎉💕 Thank you for such inspiring words.
J’ai soixante-dix ans. Mille mercis, Kristi, pour ton inspiration. J’ai l’intention de vivre, enfin, en coleur. Quand j’étais jeune j’ai crus que je n’ai jamais eu les occasions suffisantes à peintre. Le temps s’arrive; c’est maintenant!
Kristi,
Yves Montand chante La Bicyclette
(j’espère que ca marche!)
This is most definitely your mother. Delightful. And I like to see that this is how you perceive yourself in the future. I am there, except for the hair….but it will be blonde again next week…hopefully. I hear the ocean right now and they are beaconing me to come walk along the sand. La vie, l’aimer, la vivre.
Heather, I agree about Kristin’s piece and I love your reminder of “When I Am Old…..” I have the book and I love it.
Merci pour une autre histoire que j’adore beaucoup.
Je suis déjà dans le troisième age et dans mes rêves
Je suis las sur la plage avec tes coquilles et toi!!
❤️👍
Here’s to a beautifully poetic vignette and to Judith’s thoughts about ageing. I will turn 74 Wednesday, and yesterday spent 4 straight hours with my 75-year-old friend bombing our snow-covered hills on snow skis. Well, it felt like we were bombing them. Thanks be to God we remained upright and safe, reveling in the crisp air, the scent of green pines, and the shushing sounds of widely carved turns. Life is good! – Janet
Age is just a number.
Our dear Kristi,
Thank you for sharing this with us!
It is a beautiful and beautifully written piece,and so reminds me of something a dear friend said when referring to her own mom(we are now at her age then,74)”She has earned the right!”
I so second that thought!And try to live by it each day!
Such a wonderful picture of you and sweet Smokey!
Truly,dog IS God spelled backwards!
Blessings always
Arms around you
Love
Natalia XO
Happy Birthday, Judi! In four days, I will be 84 years old. When I see Tallahasse, Fl., I become homesick for north Florida. Our family lived in Monticello during WWII while my father was in the Pacific. My grandmother lived in a small town nearby and we spent many happy times with her. Best wishes, Cynthia
💕💕
Yes, to all, of course, and perhaps a few more eccentric antics I can think of. I hope by then we can have a USA of equality for all, food and shelter for all and have changed the minds and behavior of the “patriots” who sullied the steps of our capital. Unimaginable. Wonder what Macron would do…
And don’t let the scarves get caught in the spokes, haha.
Lovely writing, so evocative, I could smell the sea, feel the sun and see you zoomm past on your mobylette. A joyful read!
Since I foresee I will have another year not visiting my beloved Menton, thank you for bringing me to my beloved southern France.
WONDERFUL.
I’d toss in some Moustaki..like 17 Ans or Claud Francois La Musique Americaine.