Vow of Silence

Today, as part of anti-bullying week at Central, Me to We organized a Vow of Silence for children's rights. This event is inspired by Free the Children and commemorates the 21st anniversary of the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child. As we gear up for the holidays and students make cakes and cookies to represent atoms, it is good to be reminded of those who do not have the basics, let alone the luxuries that we have here in Canada - the right to adequate nutrition, to education, to clean water and sanitation, to medical care, to an identity, to a home. Today, over 100 students took the vow to draw attention to these fundamental rights, and in the process raised over $700 for the school district's adopted village in Ecuador, Chismaute.

Div 16 started the day with a reflection on human rights and watching the John Francis video, above. It is inspiring to see such commitment: Francis was silent for 17 years! And how wisdom comes with silence.

Very few students in Divisions 15, 16 and 17 took the vow or raised funds, which is a disappointment. They could benefit from some wisdom, some commitment, some passion for something beyond themselves. As a parent and an educator I ask why is this cohort of grade 8s, who are incredible capable individuals, so self-absorbed collectively? Why do they not step up to act for the common good at school? And what can we do as adults to support them, encourage them to think beyond themselves. This is in part the role of the Huit pas rite of passage, but perhaps it is more a societal issue than an individual one. Have we empowered our youth so much that they see themselves as more important than others, beyond respecting others or taking responsibility for their actions, for others, for our shared environment. Perhaps it is only this cohort? It is something I will reflect on, discuss with the kids, and seek out transformation. It is something that need to be addressed.

Marché mondiale and other happenings

Byzantine mosaic in Ravenna, Italy

It seems like the term has flown by, and we have only a few weeks left before the winter break. After Wednesday's night's Social's project panic (for some), I am sure many of the class can't wait! Today's Marché mondiale was great, though, and the teachers were very impressed with the projects. Over the next few weeks, the project, in which the students researched one civilization/culture that existed between the years 500 and 1000, will morph into a game where the civilizations will grow, develop and interact with each other. Students will have to research at least one resource or technology from the time period to advance their civilization, gain population, trade and conquer other lands. For the game, our class will be interacting with 6 other Grade 7 and 8 Immersion and English classes.

The other big project that will take place over the next few weeks is an interview and article that students will complete as part of their Grade 8 rite of passage. The activities that comprise the rite of passage can be found at huitpas.wikispaces.com and criteria and useful resources can be found on the telecharger tab on the right. I encourage you to read the article which inspired me by SFU professor Maurice Gibbons, Walkabout<http://www.selfdirectedlearning.com/walkabout.html>. For the interview, students are to connect with and interview someone in the community that can help them better understand an aspect the world or their life path - let their interests and passions guide them. The interviewee could be a family member, neighbour, family friend, coach or teacher, colleague from your work, or other community member with knowledge or experience to share. Students will turn their interview into an article in French (with quotes in French or English) to submit by December 14th.

We have a few upcoming excursions for which you are welcome to come along. On December 7th, from 12:00-2:45, students have the opportunity to visit Vic High to see what it has to offer, both in career programs and the arts. On the 8th, we will be heading to Techtoria, a showcase of Vancouver Island Technology companies, with a side-trip to see the trees at the Empress and Conference Centre. We will be leaving late morning and returning by 2:45. More details to follow, but please email if you can come along on either trip. The swimming trip to Crystal Pool is this Friday, 12:30-2:45.

Our Division will also be coordinating the Mustard Seed Food Drive for December, collecting non-perishables from all the classes, tallying totals, making announcements and building the mountain of food in the foyer. Send in your canned goods starting on December 1st. Merci!

A note from PAC: If you would like a Thrify's Smile Card to load to raise money for Central PAC, please let me know and I will send one home with your child.

And about report cards: next week students will complete a self-reflection about their progress this term. They will also record their marks for the first term. You should receive this reflection/marks next Thursday, December 1st. Please contact me if you would like to talk about your child's progress at that time.

Finally, as we are approaching the holidays, there is no need to get a gift for me. If you do feel like giving, I would ask you to make a contribution to the school in Tanzania where Eva Fraser and Caroline Crossley will be volunteering in the winter, or donate to another local charity.

Fin d'octobre

We are getting into the busiest part of the term. The Bear Beach project is over and in November we will be embarking on an early Middle Ages project, in which students will be researching a world civilization and then playing a game with Mme Balabuch and Mr Owen's Socials classes to learn how cultures interact. In French we will be continuing to work on grammar and verbs as well as developing media literacy - what are the messages and biases on t.v., films, music and in the press? We have also begun to learn about rites of passages and will begin our own grade 8 'Rite of Passage,' starting with an interview with someone in the community who might help them understand their life path.

There is a lot happening at school this week:

• Monday is the Halloween Dance, with proceeds going to the Mustard Seed Food Bank.
• Tuesday we are going skating for the afternoon with the Scorpions team (M Levesque, Mme O'Connor, Mme Brault and Mme Balabuch). If you are free please join us to help supervise. If you have not yet sent in the permission form or the $17.50 for field trips, I need to receive it by Tuesday morning or your son/daughter will have to stay at school. Students with significant outstanding work will also be staying at school (and missing the dance) to complete their work.
  
• Wednesday to Friday I will be away at a training session with the GVTA (Greater Victoria Teacher's Association) and then attending and presenting at the ACPI (Association Canadienne des Professeurs d'Immersion) Conference. I am looking forward to bringing back lots of good ideas to the class.
• Thursday there will be an assembly on internet safety (Facebook and other sites) for students during the day, and for parents in the evening
• Friday, Education Minister George Abbott and a slew of trustees, local and provincial politicians will be at Central to officially open the school at another assembly.
  
• Friday there will also be a Social Studies test and students will need to hand in their duotangs with all the work covered in the unit. I will give them a checklist on Monday and missing handouts can be downloaded and completed at www.mbarwin.wikispaces.com/Civilisations  . Their next "signet" book report is also due on Friday.

The following week we will have the Radio Radio concert, a Remembrance Day Assembly, and Friday is a statutory holiday.

As teachers will not be writing report cards this term, I have been meeting with students to tell them their marks, their strengths and how to improve in French, Science and Socials. I hope to send you all emails with updates later in the month, and you are always welcome to email, phone or make an appointment to come in to see me.

Images of Bear Beach

Here are a few pictures of our trip to Bear Beach. In class (and hopefully at home too) students are developing their civilizations and posting to the class wiki, found at http://mbarwin.wikispaces.com/project/list Explore the projects to see what they have come up with. YOver the next weeks students will also have to comment on others' projects. You can also click on "Join this wiki" to join in the discussion. Students must post their work by next Sunday night.

Using the wiki is an experiment for me, but it could be a useful tool for projects, information sharing and other collaborations.

The Bear Beach trip was the first step in our Grade 8 Rite of Passage. More on this over the next few weeks.

We have a few other routines that you should know about. Every week we are working on a group of French verbs. This week it is -ER verbs that use ETRE as an auxiliary (Monter/Tomber). We practice in class and there is a quiz on different tenses at the end of each week. Every two weeks students are handing in a Signet, a bookmark with daily comments on what they are reading in French. The next one is to be handed in on Thursday. Finally, each month they are completing a Lexique, a list of 50 new French words. The first is due next Monday the 24th.

As you are aware, Parent-Teacher meetings have been cancelled due to job action. If you have any concerns please send me a note and I will of course let you know if there are any serious issues with your child. There will also not be any report cards this term if the job action continues, but rest assured teachers are keeping track of marks and progress. I will conference with students at report time to let them know their marks and ways to support their learning.

October already. We have started a few routines: silent reading and signets, verb du jour and Friday quizzes. We have discussed world views and ways to count time. To get ready for Bear Beach we have read topographic maps and planned meals. And students are speaking French every day, in class discussions, in partners or in groups. They are still out of the habit, but getting a "yellow card" is a good deterrent.

Tomorrow early I head off for the first Bear Beach trip. The forecast is calling for strong winds and rain, but that is part of the experience. We did discuss appropriate gear, but out there is where there are real consequences. It is truly a beautiful place, and I would love to stay out there more than one night. sometimes I think students may learn more from two days at Bear Beach than months in a classroom; different learning, but still valuable. I wrote about the trip for an article in Green Teacher Magazine, which you can read here.

When we return, we are off on another, much shorter trip, to see Kenneth Oppel, an author who grew up in Victoria and has a great range of works, from early reader mysteries to youth fiction, and lately more adult reads. The trip is this Thursday at Vic High, leaving Central at 9:30 am. Email me if you'd like to come along.

Later in the week I will send home a notice (and post it here) for a year's worth of cultural and phys ed excursions, including skating, swimming, a magic show and a concert by Acadien hip hop artists, Radio Radio. You might want to come along for that one!

Week Two and Bear Beach

Well, we're at the end of week two and getting into the groove of school. Students are doing some formative assessment in Math, English and French, and we have jumped into Social Studies and Science. Band, Strings, Choir, Soccer and Cross Country Running are also on the go.

Entertainment Books should have come home today. Your family and neighbors can support our school by buying a book and getting great deals on restaurants, movies and more.

In Science this term we will be starting off working on the scientific process, safety, and working through some simple experiments. In French we will be practicing verbs, reading poems and short stories, writing descriptively and getting everyone talking in French again!

In Socials we will focus on social science skills: research skills, citing sources, organization, and the interplay between natural environments and culture. Hopefully you have received the Bear Beach camping trip package, and will be able to come to the meeting next Thursday, September 22nd at 6:30 pm in our class, room 306. It is the same night as Central's Open House, so you too can get a peek at the new building.

I would love to have you join us at Bear Beach, either to drive, to join us for part of the hike, or overnight. Please email and/or check off on the form if you can come along, as there is planning and paperwork to do. Forms are due at the meeting next Thursday.

I am truly enjoying getting to know the class, and look forward to meeting more of you next week. As always, please call or email if you have any questions, comments or concerns.

Alan Barwin

Bonne rentrée!

Bonjour!

Welcome back to Central for all of our returning students and bienvenue to families who are new to Central this year! I am very excited to return after my sabbatical (see older posts on the blog) to the beautiful, updated, seismically safe  Central, and to get to know all of you over the next ten months.

This blog is a resource for parents and students to keep up to date on activities in the classroom and around the school and community. Here you will find information about major assignments, field trips, special events and other news and links to keep you all in the loop. I will try to update the blog weekly. If you become a member (click "s'inscrire à ce site"on the bottom right) and you will get automatic notifications of updates.

To the right of the page I will post links to websites and French resources that will be useful for completing assignments and delving deeper into topics covered in class. I will also be creating a page from which students and parents can access copies of permission forms and assignments.

You are always welcome to contact me through my school email, abarwin@sd61.bc.ca

à très bientôt,

M Alan Barwin

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?  Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

Marianne Williamson

Roma

After three months of travel and living la vie europeene we arrived in Roma, our final stop before flying home. It feels a bit surreal. We have been gone so long I am a little unsure about going home, especially as I won't be in my own home until September. We have seen and done so much since the first of May. Those days in Wales, London and Chester seem like another trip, and I suppose they are; at least a different chapter of this adventure.

I wasn't so sure about Rome at first. It seemeb big and dirty and busy, not that attractive, full of tourists and pushy maitre d's and tour guides. But over the past few days, exploring, meandering, getting a bit lost, then stumbling upon the Trevi Fountain or a Roman ruin or an incredible piazza with yet another amazing gelateria it has grown on me. On our first night we actually went out for Indian at a great little place near the train station. Nothing like a channa masala and butter chicken with naan to ground you.

 

Synagogue in Ostia Antica

Over the past days we've been to the Vatican, seen the museum and Sistine Chapel (gorgeous, but way too busy, hot and humid), saw St Peters and went up the dome in the rain. We meandered in the evening and threw coins into the Trevi Fountain. We wandered from the Spanish Steps, window shopped for me at Armani, Prada, and others (nothing I really liked, or at least nothing I liked and could afford without remortgaging the house), ate gelato again and marvelled at the Pantheon (we want to return when it snows and then make a snowman inside from the snow that comes throught the hole in the dome), toyshopped and ate pizza by the Piazza Navona (goes well with a glass of prosecco). We saw the Colosseum as the sun set, tried to see the Forum, but the workers were on strike (benvenuto al Italia!) so we went to Ostia Antica, the ancient port town west of Rome. For hours we wandered and climbed ruins of this former city of 60 000. Climbing the steps of the temple to Jupiter, Juno and Minerva and looking down on the forum and the other temples, 

in the Vatican Museum

 curia, shops and houses, sitting in the the theatre, we could imagine what it maight have been like two thousand years ago. We also saw the ruined synagogue sitting far outside the city walls, but recognizable with it's carved menora and ark. Last night we walked past the swank hotels and restaurants of the Via Veneto, made up stories about our tall dark waiter with too long sideburns, and found a late night gelateria where we had kiwi and banana gelato to give us strength to make it back. today, our final day here, we just walked- from the Colosseum through the Forum (open today, so we did a quick walk through two millennia past) to the former Jewish Ghetto and the Tiber River, through the markets of the Campo del Fiori (this is Rick Steves' favourite piazza?), to the gelateria of 100 flavours (Tegan had Mars bar mousse and hot pepper chocolate, Rowan had yoghurt and cherry, and I had chocolate truffle and pear and cheese! it was actually delicious, very subtle cheesiness). Then slow shopping walk along the Via del Corso, Via de Tritone, and eventually back to the hotel.


ancient heads at the Vatican

Lunch, siesta, packing, and now we ponder our final night in Rome, our final night in Italy, our final night in Europe.  I think we will eat well, walk once more past basilica, palazzi and fountains, sleep very little, and be home all too soon, but also at long last.
  



en descendant a Rome: city of music, city of walls

After a week in the mountains it was time to head south again. We looked on the map and the girls chose a place to spend the night and ideas for out last couple of days before heading into the city, la citta eternele. So we sped down the autostrada, out of the mountains, out of the cool mountain air and into the plains of Lombardy and the heat. Felt like southern Ontario a bit, except for the signs.

Cremona, birthplace of Stradivari and the violin. We parked a ways from town and spent a while wandering until we asked a signora how to get to museo violini. She pointed us in the right direction. We arrived in a big piazza with a statue of the maestro Stradivari giving a violin to a child, his tools lying around. We stopped for pranzo, lunch, on the piazza, lots of people with violins strapped to their backs, and then headed into the museo. Who should we find there but the signora who gave us directions. But we needed tickets first, so we got those,and a poster of a gorgeous 17th century violin for Tegan. The museo was full of ancient violins, all beautifuly crafted, and all of which would sound so sweet and rich if only they were played and not behind glass. The other part of the museum, across town, well, a gelato-length away, had a beautiful collection of baroque artwork, lots of flying angel-heads and good discussion from ther girls about the artwork. Theit knowledge and appreciation of art has come a long way since we came to Europe. There was also a display about how violins are made, more instruments, old tools lying around, and a pack of Japanese tourists. As we walked back to the car it was strangely quiet, like the city was abandoned. Curious, but a beautiful town.

 
Then more autostrade. We see the Leaning Tower of Pisa from afar, more autostrada and then we exit at Lucca, returning there but thids time staying overnight at the Hotel Rex, beside the train station, where the owner, maybe 80- or 90-something years old greets the girls with "bella bambina!" every time he saw them, and the concierge knows Victoria because he used to work on thne cruise ships. We crash for a bit then go down to the local pizza joint, with incredible pizza and not a word of English in sight.

The next day is one of of those near perfect days. I wake up early and go for a run around the city walls. Lucca is surrounded by an intact raised 200 year old wall, which makes a perfect running, walking or cycling route. The sun shines down on the churche spires, duomi, the towers of the town and the hills in the distance. The girls wake up and after a "bella bambina" breakfast and checing out we head into town. We go shopping, getting our "cool" Italian clothes before we head home, and looking for cheesy t-shirts that say such things as "add a little salt to your life." Then its on to the Palazzo Pfanner, a mansion with a garden that is filled with lemon trees and statues of the gods. We ponder buying the palazzo, inviting friends to move in with us, gardening and living la dolce vita. We lunch at the Canuleia, where we ate a few weeks before, dining al fresco in their garden. Rowan in in heaven  savouring her pecorino souffle with pear sauce. Tegan and I dig into our caneloni. We finish with a chocolate fondante cake and a cafe for me.

Back across town, poking into shops, past churches, through piazze, and to the car, and more autostrade through the hills of Toscana. now we aere back in familiar territory: Fulimico where we went to the waterpark, Grosetto, where we picked up Kath and Jodie at the train, Alberese, where we swam in the Mediterranean, and finally to Orbetello, Tegan's choice for the night, where we swim and play in the pool for hours, and go to the local festival, where we find a market of everything from antiques to organic liquorice to cheeses and provencal table cloths. The band places 70s rock and classic Italian songs, while the locals eat barbecue wild boar and drink bottles of the local vino on long tables. We take it all in and when we do lay down our heads, they are full and content, and anticipating the final adventure of Roma tomorrow.

Italia at 2000 metres

Cirque d'Aviasco, around 2100 m altitude, up in the Alpi Orobie range north of Brescia and Bergamo. I am slowly watching the world wake up. The stars and blackness give way to deep blue. The first sun hits the tops of the mountains to the west. Marmots start to whistle. My morning wake-up call. Small birds, yellow-winged and browns, flitter here and there. I watch the sun creep down the hillside, closer and closer to us, huddled together under our little, too little, grey tarp. Yesterday we made our way from the Baita (small cabin with hosts that us, serve meals, gave us shelter, cosy beds, wine, coffee and grappa, and wonderful company) Cernello, past a few other lakes, dammed over 80 years ago, along Lago Aviasco and up to this meadow.

Baita Cernello

In the afternoon we settled here, just past the abandoned shepherd hut, among the wildflowers and rivers, under Mt Pradella. Then we watched the sky's fluffy white clouds turn grey, then black. We dove under the tarp as hail pounded down, slid in drifts off the top of the tarp. We heard the rumble of thunder off behind Mt Pradella. we talked of options: waiting for a calm spell and making our way to the rifugio at Lago Nero, staying here, going back to Cernello. My brave adventurous girls wanted to stick it out. We still had hours before sunset, so I kept an eye on the sky.

A little while later there were patches of blue, and Rowan and I went for an explore up the side of Pradella. Patches of snow, beautiful striped stones, perhaps trails or a route up to the peak, or at least to the cirque's ridge. When we came down we saw Tegan in the meadows dancing around in her bright green raincoat and blue polka-dot pajamas.

A long wait for undercooked pasta and then we ducked into bed, reading about Rome, our toes taking a while to warm up. We slowly drifted off to sleep, cozy in our sleeping bags.

climbing the rock gully to the ridge of Mt Pradella

On Pradello, just above Lago Gelato

And now it is morning. A brilliant morning sun rising over the lake. The meadow all in sun, though dew and frost remain. The everpresent song of the stream is just below us, a cool breeze from above. The girls are now awake. A cup of tea. Tegan munching on porridge, questions about bugs from Rowan. We survived a night in the cool alpine, and wake to a cloudless day of blue blue sky. I am pround that my girls are strong, fearless, adventurous, slightly goofy and so full of trust and love. Another glorious day in the Orobie.

lokking down on Lago Aviasco and our
meadow

Opera by moonlight

The big round moon rises over the arena

as it has for thev past two thousand years
we sit on the stone, carved by slaves when Rome ruled the world
voices of the performers rise and fill the arena,
lifting out into the starry night
lights turn the stone bleachers lilac, then gold
costumes sparkle
the chorus dances
discussion and laughter from the nonnas behind us
as they share their picnic and their own history
it ends with applause and fireworks
and the thousands in suits and shorts, gowns and jeans
stream out and fill the cafes of the piazza
then disappear into the night.

another hot night in Verona
between Venice and the Alps and the Lombardy plain
i lie in bed, i can't sleep
maybe it is the expresso i drank two hours ago, thinking about the next stage of the journey,
or because i should not be asleep yet
the breeze flaps the awning on the balcony, blows over me
but it is still heavy with the day's heat
and then i hear it,
the rich deep voice of a tenor, drifting across the evening
Nabucco is proclaiming at the old arena
just a few hundred metres away
the old Babylonian is craving power,
pursuing love,
conquering and being defeated
as he can only do in opera
i go out into the night
stand on the balcony
and listen to the voices, to the violins and drums,
to applause under the stars
on a hot Verona night

Venezia

Melting heat, day after day. Meandering. The word was made for this city - through streets, lanes, calle, campi, over bridges, alongside canals, past yet another stunning church, ruined ca' or palatial edifice. I could wander endlessly through the streets for days, though my feet are sore and tired. Yet another bridge, another alley, another corner and another neighbourhood, world opens up. Our hotel, la Caneva is a bit of a dive, though a well-located dive, between the Rialto Bridge and a short walk from San Marco. some disappointment when we arrived because we are in a dfifferent building from Kath and Jodie, there was a shared bathroom, and no air conditioning in the heat, but we are in Venice. Our room overlooks a canal, it is close to all, and cheap! We are getting to know the characters around here: at night we hear the gondoliers  on the steps that disappear into the water across from us, chatting, waiting, having a break; in the morning it is the men loading the garbage boat, waving up at us; and there is the scuzzy manager who will do anything to eke another euro out of us. And there are the bells, bells, bells, from all over, chiming, gonging, more times than the hour.

The garbage boat just went by. It's name? Veritas: Truth.

Again we are in a place that has been painted by images - from books, from films, from photos. The girls and I explored the work of Cornelia Funke's The Thief Lord (read it before you go to Venice!) on Tuesday night. We didn't find the Stella, the theatre where the kids are hiding out, but we did find the Calle de Paradiso, where it should be. No palazzo where Scipio lives, but there was a beautiful building on where it should have been on the Fondamente Bolani, just past the Accademia Bridge.

Such a photogenic city too - every canal, derelict or gorgeous building and church, courtyards, and, off the main dragsd of tourists, the people of the city are there, real, living out their lives. We walked past the locals having their evening drinks and ceccine (hors d'oeuvres) on ther street and beside the canal, chatting like in any other town, shopkeepers visiting with each other, sharing a laugh. Sure it is mostly overpriced, but you can still find a slice of pizza for 1.50 E or a gelato for less than 2E.

We have been to some of the sights - San Marco, the Doge's Palace, through the Grand Canal, to the islands of Murano and Burano, to see the glass and lace respectively, and today we go to the Peggy Guggenheim Museum (modern art: Picasso, Pollock, Miro and Peggy's other friends) the Jewish Ghetto, and will sneak into the Basilico San Marco when the others siesta. More exploring. Soon we'll head off for our breakfast of brioches and capuccino by the Rialto fish and fruit market, and then on to the rest of the giornata.

Ciao, Toscana

gelato in Fulminico

walking on the promenade beside the beach

umbrella stretched as far as the eye can see

our last day spent at the waterpark

brown and bronze bodies in barely-there bikinis and speedos

young men in baggy shorts egging each other on, being chastised by the lifeguards, who seem more into their image than safety, flirting with the girls

a dj who doesn’t stop talking, playing pop music with a good beat but words i  don’t understand

we leave and head for the hill country,

vines on the slope,

stone buildings in various states of ruin or disrepair,

olive trees planted in neat rows,

fiats flying past us on the autostrada, in and out of tunnels, twisting through the hills

the sun fading, but shining golden on the vines, on the trees

dappling

we prepare our last meal here

ingredients gathered at the morning market

sausage and fish, beans and aubergine,

all with plenty of herbs, garlic and lemon

a bottle of rich red brunesco, from not too far from here

we eat, talk about moving on tomorrow

watch the moon rise

the stars come out

the light dims until we are left with only the silhouettes of the hills

and skin that remembers the day’s heat

E alora, as they say here, today we move on. The final couple of weeks of cities and mountains. Arrivederci alla Toscana, the hill country, the wine country. To our little town with its evening crowds in the piazza, the ragazzi, the kids, running wild while the adults share a glass or a caffe. Arrivederci to the morning rooster and the pack of barking dogs at dawn, to the trucks passing through and the calls of ‘buongiorno’ across the square. To the intense light, the heat, the rain and the thunderstorms. To the neighbour’s calls of ‘Pamilla!’ as she calls her cat, the sound of the fountain, the eyes watching us, friendly, curious, yet not so much to come up and say ‘ciao,’ except for my friend the communist chef from France.

Today we leave, by autostrade and twisty roads to San Marino and on to Venice domain. It is beautiful here – the light, the hills, the forest, and there is so much yet to see, but I am not taken with the place like in l’Herault. Maybe it is the language or being a tourist, maybe the crowds. I do like that we have stayed for two weeks here in Monticiano, this unspoiled Italian town, and went to the the non-touristy city of Fulminico yesterday, where we heard no English and saw no cameras, only a few tourist shops for the visitors from Rome or Milan or Firenze. Maybe I just have to live here for a while, learn the language, let Tuscana get under my skin, make connections, eat more pomederi (tomatoes) and basilica that taste so fresh, but still I do not dream of a life under the Tuscan sun. Give me the towns and garrigue of Languedoc or the coasts and forests of Vancouver Island instead.

Stuck in the piazza watching the race with thousands

Saturday night in Siena. The rain has stopped. Rowan and I are standing in the Campo in Sienna, the central square in front of the Palazzo Pubblico, the town hall built in the 1300s, complete with 330 foot clock tower. We are not alone. There is the woman from Hamburg on one side, down in Siena for her annual week-long trip to Italy; there is the family from Belfast, the father who works in Dunmurry and mother who is a personal injury lawyer with lots to say about safety and liability in Italy, and their three kids; there are the three women behind us, one Japanese, one from Eastern Europe, and a third whose accent I can’t place, talking in broken Italian and then switching to broken French; and then there are the tens of thousands of others that have packed the square wearing and waving flags and scarves of the seventeen ‘Contradas,’ the different districts in the town. We are all there for the Palio, the bareback horserace around the half-moon shape piazza that has been run since 1283.

The premise is simple: riders from 10 of the contrade race three times around the piazza. First to pass the finish line wins the Palio, the banner of the Madonna, and glory for their contada until the next race. Of course the practicalities of racing around a piazza with sharp corners, thousands of spectators, and no rules really is a bit more interesting. In one of the lead-up qualifying races, one of the riders was thrown, trampled and killed. Still the race goes on. Of the ten riders that started, maybe five finished, the others having crashed into the pads that line the corners, been thrown, knocked into or over. There are horses running free everywhere, crowds rushing onto the track the moment the race is over, and all of us crammed into the square. By 4:30, most of the entrances to the piazza were blocked off so Rowan and I had to make our way round to the back of the Palazzo Pubblico, past the old synagogue, through the police security check (no bambini, strollers, no WCs, no food – but we saw lots of kids aged 2+ and a stroller), through the crammed like sardines passage, along with drunken Englishmen and rowdy Sienese youth, and into the piazza. We were told we had to be there by 4:30, but the gate wasn’t closed until at least 6:30. The square also wasn’t nearly as crowded as we expected, once we got in. We had room to move around, sit down, though not quite as comfortable as the seats in the windows overlooking the piazza, for the low low price of 300Euros per person. We were fine on the ground, with our pastries and water and chocolate. We couldn’t see  much of the race, but we did get a good view of the far corner and home stretch.

When we were in, the procession had already begun. Each contrada had flagbearers, drummers, knights in full armour with swords, pages, banner carriers, horses, and they paraded around the race track, stopping occasionally for the flagbearers to do a routine of flag waving and throwing high into the air. We got to recognize most of the flags and colours of the contrade: the Tower, the Panther, the Shell, the Wolf, the Dragon, the Forest, the Goose, and all of the others. It was a step back to Renaissance ceremony. There were fanfares, men in tights, page-boy cuts (sadly they were only wigs), and at long last (we had been crammed into the Campo for over 2 hours) the ship pulled by oxen with the city fathers, also in Renaissance garb. The crowds waved their flags and scarves as the ship passed. Finally the ship stopped in front of the archway to the Pallazo, the noble lords got out, and a city worker in grey coveralls drove the ship off.

A quiet fell over the Campo, incredible that such a huge crowd could be so silent. A man on a balcony called out the names of the Contrade, the order to line up. The horses fell into place. One, Bucca (the Caterpillar) wouldn’t settle so they were all walked around before being lined up again. There was the book of a cannon and then they were off.

The next minute or so was a blur. I lifted Rowan to see better. We got glimpses of the horses, with and without riders as the rounded the far corner and came towards us, each time fewer in contention. A green and yellow rider seemed to be out in front. Another lap and then another boom, the crowd spilling onto the course. “That was it?!” asked our Northern Irish neighbor. “We crammed in here for hours just for that?” The whole race had only lasted just over a minute. None of us knew for sure who had won. Then the horses and riders and flagbearers lined up. The Palio banner was passed down from the balcony, and they all paraded around again. This time Oca, the Goose, with its green and yellow flag, was out in front. Apparently they had won.

It was an experience. Now we can say we’ve seen the Palio, been part of the mass from all around the globe that was there on that day to watch Oca win the race. Was it worth it? I think so. The energy was incredible, the site beautiful; I got to share something with my daughter, meet good people from all over, and be transported back 600 years. I just wish I had bought an Oca scarf instead of Selva, the Forest, as they hadn’t even qualified. Maybe next year.

Leaving Castelnau

Leaving Castelnau

Funny how you can get so connected to a place in just a few weeks. When we pulled out of Castelnau de Guers for the last time on Sunday, we were all pretty sentimental. We hugged and did our bisous to Corinne and Selma, got in the car, and I felt a bit teary as I looked in the rearview mirror, drove past the Mairie, St. Sulpice and Tegan’s school, and away from our family for the past month. Yes we were on our way to the lake, to Menton, on the French/Italian border, and on to Tuscany, but Castelnau, the farm and Pezenas felt like, feels like a good place to be. We were welcomed so well, and even though it took me a while to connect with Corinne, the days before we left we had some great talks, recognized our similarities, appreciated each other, and sensed that it was coming to an end. When we left we all said our goodbyes and that we would look forward to when we would next meet – when that will be we have no idea. Rowan will be back in France in two years for an exchange, perhaps next summer for Jun and Raphaelle’s wedding, but not likely, and will Corinne and Selma ever make it to the West Coast? One day maybe, but it will be a long time away. Same with Julie. When we left her at Lac Salagou after a picnic and swim,  more bisous and hugs and see you sometime. With Julie, though, I wouldn’t be surprised if she showed up on our doorstep in the fall or spring. We will be back, who knows when, but I have a feeling that l’Herault is now a part of us, as are the people, and we will walk the garrigue and go to the boulangerie in Castelnau and visit the market in Pezenas again.

There was no big fuss for our departure, but there was the fete at the farm on Friday night. Cathy and Corinne Legumes (not to be confused with our host, Corinne Tisane) had been on the farm for 15 years, and had just paid it off, from what I gathered. They, or should I say Corinne, decided to invite their friends and customers from the Sete market and Friday marché at the farm for a soirée. All the food would be local and organic, from the farm and from Corinne and Cathy’s friends and suppliers. We were preparing most of the day, setting up tables and chairs, Pepé stringing up lights, Cathy making a massive jug of Sangria. I did my final bits of work on the farm, gathering more vervenne, bagging dried herbs and drying flowers and vervenne, and then I was busy getting ready for the marché and the party. Burying electrical cords, wiping down chairs and tables. Late in the afternoon I went back to get the three girls, Rowan, Tegan and Selma.

The evening was amazing. There was an accordionist who made us feel like we were in Paris rather than in the middle of a freshly mowed hayfield. There were bales of hay to sit on, tables set out under the coloured lights, a fire pit where mussels in massive pans were steaming and fresh lamb on the barbecue. Corinne was serving sangria and in all over 100 people had come. The wind had calmed a bit, and as the evening wore on the sun began to set over the fields and the stars, incredible bright infinite stars, came out. At a break in the music, Tegan and Selma played a duet on violin and piano, a song they renamed ‘When Selma Smiles,’ and then Tegan did a few fiddle tunes, and impressed the locals. Time passed, ad couple danced to the jazzy accordion among the bales of hay, under the stars, Corinne Legumes got out her alto sax and played a few tunes, introducing them in her broken English, Tegan and Selma chased dogs, boys, and each other, Rowan and I talked of life and moving on and philosophy, and we ate and  ate and ate. Past midnight, Tegan and Selma had disappeared to nap in the car. It took a while so say my goodbyes, receiving compliments on Tegan’s music, talking about our trip and what an opportunity it was for the girls, and inviting new friends to visit us in Canada.

In the morning I went to the farm one last time to help tidy up, after a final run through the garrigue and to the hermitage on the hill beside Castelnau. Already too hot to run at 9 in the morning. At the farm I was invited to have a café with some friends of Corinne and Cathy’s, talking about ‘camping’ around Italy in camper-vans and rv’s, European style. I helped Cathy load a truck with chairs, filled a box with fresh tomatoes and melons and carrots from the farm, and had another sad goodbye. Come next year on in twenty years, I told Corrine and Cathy, and I hope they will.

And now we have moved on to the final part of our trip: more moving around from place to place, but this time in another language, in a new country for all of us, to a place where we have images of renaissance towns and artwork, of palazzi and rolling hills with rich red wine. And while we continue our travels I will keep Castelnau and our community there with me, along with all of the books and tisanes and sirops and wine that we acquired along the way. Andiamo al Italia.

Toscana

It feels like we’ve fallen into a movie. We have arrived in Monticiano, our home in Tuscany for the next two weeks. We arrived close to 9 o’clock last night, having driven from Menton, the last city in France before you cross the border. The early morning sun shone through the window, dappled hills out over the terrazzo, the fountain gurgling away in the piazza; I should be sitting on the deck with an expresso. Domani.

Yesterday was a baking hot day that started with a walk around Menton, on the Cote d’Azur, beaches, sea-side cafes, markets, local lemons, our last patisseries francaises, and a Jean Cocteau museum which didn’t have any on their Jean Cocteau on display. Tant pis. We had had a meal the previous night at a waterfront restaurant called La vita e bella, pizza, pasta, risotto, and gelato with brownies.

We took the autostrada (autoroute) along the coast, and it was more viaduct and tunnel than regular highway. It must have been an incredible effort to construct, to engineer around the deep valleys and ridges that cut along the coast. Far below us were the seaside towns, with beaches and marinas, houses and churches. All around us were terraced farms and greenhouses. After a few hours we passed Genoa and cut off the highway to find a beach. Not so easy. Signage in Italy is nowhere near as clear as in France, where there are numerous arrows pointing everywhere. Here signs are optional and the motorcycles are even more crazy than in France. After exploring Ziglisomthingia, we ended up in Lavagna, just before Cinque Terre. A random sign with waves led us to the beach, well, a little strip of public beach between two private beaches for patrons of the restaurants there. We successfully negotiated the parking ticket machine, glad that out Euros still worked here, and then headed to the sand for a dip and a picnic. The sand burned our feet but the water was warm. At the bottom it was even cool. It took no time to dry off, and we had to hide in the shade to not melt as we ate – baguette, tomatoes, jambon cru, but now known as pane, pomadoros e prosciutto. Voices and accents all around us told us we were not en France any more. Another dip and then back to the autostrada.

With Rowan to guide us and Tegan to entertain, or nap, we followed the road into Tuscana. Mountains, big ones with snowy peaks, loomed to the north. The land turned more pastoral, and industrial at the same time. We came across fields and fields of sunflowers! More than we’ve ever seen. Mythic places passed by – Pisa, Firenze, the Arno, and then, cutting of the highway and winding down twisty roads, more towns with almost unpronounceable names and three-wheeled Biaggio mini-trucks, and then we were at Siena. Glimpses of the Duomo through the trees. It seemed surreal that we were finally here! Though not quite yet.

Another almost hour or so winding down the SP73, not quite sure if we were on the right road, and then Rowan springing to life, saying this is it, its just a bit more! Rolling hills, forests, vineyards, more sunflowers, and a sign that actually said Monticiano! We roll into the piazza – there are shops here, and restaurants. There is the church. But where to find Raphaella and the casa? We park after two wrong turns, me a bit grumpy and tired, not letting Tegan search for her flats just wanting to get to the casa. The older couple watches us park. I ask them if they speak French. Non. English? Non. So with the magic of hand gestures and slow speech and a the few words of Italian I know, I was guided by the nonna to Raphaella’s building (her dress shop now closed, and her away as she was expecting us on Saturday – despite my email last week to Giacomo, the agent). Someone greets us and tells us to park in front. I say my mille grazie to the couple and we finally get to bring our things, so much stuff after two months of travel – I think I bought too much wine and to many books – up to the apartment.

We are a bit disappointed. Maybe it is hunger or exhaustion or too many ‘Under the Tuscan Sun’ type films. It is an apartment overlooking the village square and church. It is fairly modern, the square loud, we have barely any food, but it will do. There is a great terrace overlooking the hills. Sure the bar/café was loud last night and the pack of local ragazzi (kids) were biking and scootering and yelling, but we are in Tusany! I grilled the last of the baguette with chevre and the fig jam we made in Castelnau on Saturday, cooked the beans and carrots with Corrine’s herbs, and opened a bottle of Gamay from the Loire. It could be worse! I just met the neighbour and had a conversation, more or less, where we talked about the weather and where we are from and how we slept and I introduced myself, and she offered her herbs and any help necessary. It will be good. We need to settle in, accept the life here, that people live con gusto, speak loudly, enjoy life, and in a month’s time we will be chatting away. Buenvenuto alla Toscana.

Alan le vigneron

Yann le Bouler  is a vigneron, a winemaker. He has a small domaine, l'Ancienne Cordonnerie, on which he grows grapes organically, and from which he makes a half dozen cuvees, three reds, two whites and a rosé. His  cave, or winery, is under his house in the village of Boujan, near Béziers. Yesterday morning at 6:45, Corinne and I set off to help Yann with the bottling. We would be done by 1 pm, be fed, and then back in time to pick up Rowan after her last day of school.

After trying to find our way around the labyrinth of the village roads, we finally make to Yann’s open door and go upstairs. Du café ? we are asked. Bien sûr ! Half an hour later we are at the Domaine de l’Haute Condamine, around the corner. Because Yann’s operation is so small, he is using his friend’s cave and bottling machine for a couple of days. This involves moving thousands of litres of wine from Yann’s cave down the hill, either by piping in into the massive vats, pipes running through the streets, or in barrels on the back of Yann’s old truck. The cave is full of shipping pallets – of new bottles, of boxes of wine ready to ship, and in the back, vats of Condamine wine. A half dozen friends and family showed up to help with the bottling, including Yann’s parents. The bottling machines made me think this is where Laverne & Shirley would work if they lived in the south of France. Basically it is an assembly line – put empty bottles on the conveyor belt, they get filled, then corked. The next person puts on the ‘capsules,’ the plastic coverings on the top of the bottles, which get shrink-wrapped by the machine. The ‘tickets,’ the front and back labels get stuck on by another machine. Then a couple more people make boxes, put in three bottles, a divider and then three more on top. The box is run through another machine that tapes it top and bottom, and then it rolls out and gets brought to the truck. That was my job (give the Canadian something where he doesn’t have to touch the bottles!) I either carried the bottles from the end of the line to the truck, or stacked boxes in the truck.

The day wasn’t without glitches. It took a while to calibrate the filling machine so the right amount of wine goes in each bottle. The labeller needs to be adjusted so labels go on the right places on the bottles, and every now and then someone would yell ‘STOP’ (not Arretez!) because the machine ran out of tape or there was some other problem.

 

The first cuvée, the Talon Aiguille (stiletto heel, because the cave used to be an old shoemaker) went smoothly once we got going. We tasted it mid-run, around 8:30 in the morning, just about when most people have their first glass of wine, right? But this was work, so it was o.k. It was a bit gassy, as is too expected, but got much better once it breathed Talon Aiguille is made from Carignan with a rich, high tannin, almost blackberry flavour. We ran out of capsules, so boxes were starred to have capsules added later. The occasional bottle with a label or other glitch was put to the side to use for tastings or to give to family and friends. In less than two hours we had filled the truck twice and unloaded it in the unassuming garage in the village. No security, no fancy signage, just an old weathered door, behind which is a gold mine of wines. The second cuvée, the Prelude, is Yann’s high end red, made from a blend of grapes with Syrah added to bring out the flavours, I was told. There were endless problems with the Prelude. Calibrating went fine, but then labels weren’t sticking and then they were stained; wine was leaking and bottles had to be wiped. It was endless Stop! Stop! We got a couple hundred cases loaded, but there were dozens and dozens of bottles that needed to have labels peeled off. Yann was getting frustrated. In the end, he realized that the labels were smudged at the printers, so he was going to send them back and redo labels later. The final third of the run was without labels and boxes left untaped on top. The Prelude was lighter and more complex in taste.

After unloading, with everyone this time, we went up to the house for a lunch that went on an on, where we got to sample all the wines, having settled and breathed after bottling. There was  bread and rilette and charcuterie, then pasta, and after comes a lamb stew, followed by chevre cheese and two cakes. And coffee. Reward for a good morning’s work. Over 3000 bottles in 4 hours. Not bad.

After lunch, Yann went back to bottle his ‘House Blend,’ which is basically a mix of the dregs of each vat of the three reds that were bottled. He will keep those for personal consumption We left with a few bottles, and I will let mine, which I helped bottle, sit in my cave back in Victoria until the right opportunity arises. I’m not sure if I could handle a life of being a vigneron, despite it being a common dream to run a vineyard in the south of France, but I am happy to help out anytime.