TODAY’S WORD: pigiste : freelance journalist
PRONUNCIATION: [pee-zheest]

EXAMPLE & DEFINITION:
Le pigiste est un journaliste indépendant qui est payé par article, reportage ou photo. Il s’agit souvent d’un débutant… ou, dans notre cas, d’une écrivaine en herbe : Jackie !

A pigiste is a freelance journalist who is paid per article, report, or photo. Often it’s someone just starting out… or in our case, a budding writer: Jackie!

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

Hard to believe it’s been two weeks since I returned from the States. I’m happy to report Dad’s doing better—he even took the wheel for a leisurely ride through his Seattle neighborhood.

Here in France, our house is a hive of industry—thankfully Jackie didn’t completely hand back the reins. She’s been so helpful with the cooking—her skirt steak on a bed of mashed potatoes, drizzled with homemade chimichurri… miam!—and she’s even taken on a side gig as pigiste for this blog.

After a quick round of yard work with Jean-Marc, I peel off my gardening gloves and collapse onto the couch. Just as I begin to relax, Ricci jumps up and paws at me with urgency.

What is it, Ricci?…

—Tu veux manger?
—Tu as soif?
—Tu veux un câlin?
—Envie de voir Grandma?

Ricci leaps off the couch and trots toward Jackie’s room. Ah! You want to check in on our writer-in-training… Let’s see what she’s up to for her next entry in this journal….

A New Yorker in La Ciotat by Jacqueline Espinasse

“Discovering The Humble Life”

A week before Vin landed in France, he let me know there would be a surprise in his suitcase — and it was bigger than I imagined.

Back when I lived my three months in New York City, we both had a hard time imagining my departure in July. So, to make it a little easier, I booked Vin a round trip to La Ciotat! Now, back in France, as the days passed, I started to get more and more nervous about his arrival. What if the love isn’t there anymore? What are we going to do under this hot, dry summer for ten full days? What is he going to think about our Happy Po system?
→ See Mom’s story about our faulty plumbing: Pancarte: A Funny Sign Taped to the Wall of Our W.C.

After three months together and 28 days apart, it was hard to keep my mind straight. And suddenly, it was time to pick up Vin! Before leaving for the Aéroport de Marseille, I asked Mom to fill up one of her favorite gourdes, and I wrapped three juicy strawberries in tin foil. One of the things I was most excited about was Vin trying European food.

At Terminal 1, I suddenly spotted him in his James Bond sunglasses and white chemise, walking toward the exit like he had been there forever. I quickly and silently ran up behind him and, just like in the movies, wrapped my hands around his eyes. Then, my body took control—I had never hugged someone so tight, I nearly choked myself. From that very moment, all of my fears magically went away.

Mom put a point d’honneur on Vin understanding our French lifestyle. Mornings were for walking and swimming, feeding Ricci and our doves, Mama & Papa. Afternoons were for the sieste, and in the evenings, Dad prepared the apéros with good wine and cheese (Le Pérail is my fav!).

“I’m going to throw my passport into the Mediterranean Sea,” said Vin.
He was really getting into this slower way of life. I have to say, having lived in both countries, France has far less consumer pressure. Life is also way slower in the south of France compared to New York.

On Vin’s first night at the house, I was on the couch when he sat gently beside me and handed me an envelope. Inside was a three-page letter declaring his love for me. After reading it, I was all emotional. Then he gave me the long-awaited surprise he had packed. I opened it and saw a pair of keys.
“I remember these keys,” I said.
“They’re yours now. Will you come live with me?”

I’m leaving you with that happy news and Vin’s text (scroll down). Here are a few dreamy highlights from the past week:

– We danced a lot, and laughed until my belly hurt
– Rented pédalos and “pedaled” down the waterway at les Gorges du Verdon
– Visited the countryside, including Gordes
– Left Vincent to tour Aix-en-Provence while I completed my last Pilates class there (I’ll finish my certificate in Brooklyn!)
– Introduced Vin to pastries at our local bakery
– Cruised around the port in our old wooden boat with Dad—Mom captured it all from the rocks
– Had lunch at the calanque below Parc Mugel, then jumped from high off the rocks nearby
– Enjoyed Grandma’s words regarding my new love: “Well, God took care of that!”

---

From the Airport Lobby – Vin’s perspective

Getting on the plane, I thought, was going to be the easy part of this whole trip. Just sitting there with all this anticipation to meet Jackie’s family. But when I landed in Marseille, a feeling of something big came over me—but in a good way.

I wanted to do a silly face or something funny when I saw Jackie waiting for me. So when I got to the lobby of Departures, I looked all over for her—and then out of nowhere, a hand reached out and grabbed me. In that very second, I knew it was Jackie. I turned, and we hugged.

It was like nothing I had ever felt before. It was the tightest hug I’ve ever had, and I felt like we were melting together. I’ve been away from loved ones before—on deployments, on long trips on a ship—but nothing compared to this hug. Smelling her, feeling her, I knew I was exactly where I needed to be.

I pulled back to get a glimpse of her, and she was as beautiful as the first day I saw her on the corner of Greene and Waverly in Brooklyn. Her hair was a little redder, and she had put on mascara, which she usually doesn’t. It was a pleasant surprise!

We hopped in the Zoé and were getting ready to zip off to La Ciotat. But her biggest priority was making sure I got a taste of one of her favorite snacks: strawberries from France. They were a game changer. She had been hyping them up in New York, and she was definitely right.

As we drove, she gave me a tour of the towns along the way, adjusting her speed to keep an eye on the radar cameras lining the highway. But honestly, being with her felt like we were flying.

REMERCIEMENTS
Thank you to the following readers for your donation this past week to this journal!

Whether you’ve been reading for years or just stumbled upon this little corner of France, thank you for being here. These stories continue thanks to reader encouragement. If you’d like to help maintain this journal, here are a few simple ways:

🌿 Zelle – to Kristin.espinasse@gmail.com
🌿 PayPal – Click here
🌿 Credit card – Click here

Gift the book A Year in a French Life to a friend. It’s packed with colorful photos and vocabulary.

Dave C.
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Linda H.
Susan E.
Robyn M.
Cerelle B.
Eugene P.
Monica M.
Sarahlee K.

FRENCH VOCABULARY
Listen to Jackie and Jean-Marc pronounce these French terms (click link above)

miam = yum
le pigiste = freelance journalist
tu veux manger ? = do you want to eat?
tu as soif ? = are you thirsty?
tu veux un câlin ? = do you want a hug?
envie de voir Grandma ? = feel like seeing Grandma?
la gourde = reusable water bottle
la chemise = (men’s) dress shirt
le point d’honneur = a matter of pride; something taken very seriously
la sieste = afternoon nap
l’apéro (l’apéritif) = pre-dinner drink/snack
le Pérail = a soft sheep’s milk cheese from the south of France
la Zoé = a compact electric car model made by Renault

I hope you enjoyed today’s post. See any errors? Thank you for your corrections in the comments section (or simply hit return, if reading via email). Enjoy the rest of your week and à bientôt for more family updates from France.