A Journey to a Dream Life in France
Today I have a treat for you with a book extract from author Annemarie Rawson from her new book 'My French Platter Replenished'. This delightful memoir from Annemarie Rawson is the second book in her 'My French Platter' series. Annemarie's first book 'My French Platter' tells the story of how she, and her husband Steve, leave their life in New Zealand to manage a 15th century farmhouse in France. Little do they know that they will end up living in filth, rely on dilapidated equipment and deal with a belligerent boss. During this period they lived near Brens.
Annemarie's second book (cover pictured above) 'My French Platter Replenished' takes the reader on a further journey of their life in France whilst working in Lisle-sur-Tarn at Domaine de Mènerque and later at Combe de Merigot, near Gaillac. We get to meet more friends, experience their woes and joys and also to try out the recipes that Annemarie shares. I love the recipes that are a bonus find at the end of both books. I'm sure you'll love trying them out for yourself.
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Annemarie Shares Her Life in France With Us
In this exclusive blog post, Annemarie transports us into her everyday life with a background into where they lived, what they did and a personal experience at the doctors. Annemarie shares an extract from her book 'My French Platter Replenished' which is an insight into different cultures and how a simple visit for routine examinations can leave you acutely aware of those differences ...
The Tarn, a relatively well-kept secret in the department of Midi-Pyrenees (south west France) chose us, we didn’t choose her. In fact, we’d never even been to Toulouse (the nearest city) on any of our travels but answering an international advertisement, saw Steve and I ended up living and working there. How fortunate were we!
Annemarie and Steve Rawson - Estate Managers
In our roles of Estate Managers we experienced one rather disconcerting workplace and one absolutely magnificent on, based in the stunning countryside and with wonderful French neighbours.
The Tarn is still relatively unknown in terms of international tourism which only adds to its beauty. Visiting any of its highlights is not the usual ‘bun fight’ you might experience at the more well-known sites. Our local town of Gaillac hosted a Friday morning weekly market which had everything you could possibly want and always drew a large number of people from around the Tarn area. Of course there was a weekly market on at nearly every town around us and not a great distance away. Rabastens’ speciality was the seedlings you could buy – flower and vegetables. Here you’ll also find the Notre Dame du Bourg cathedral, a wonderful cathedral set on the Route of St Jacques de Compostelle. It is a must-see.
Also near to Gaillac are Albi, Cordes-sur-Ciel, Puycelsi and St Antonin Nobel Val, each of which hosts its own weekly market (on different days) and beautiful places to explore. We loved them all.
Steve and I were so fortunate to be invited to eat at our French neighbours’ tables and to be part of their family celebrations but also to meet and be welcomed into many English homes.
Life there was not without its challenges and the many differences between cultures but did not detract from our love of France, our time there and the language and the people.
'My French Platter Replenished' Extract
Here is an extract from my second book, 'My French Platter Replenished' which I hope you enjoy ...
Finally Steve and I were both registered in the French medical system. Fundamental to getting our carte Vitale was the necessity to have our birth and marriage certificates translated into French by an authorised agent and submitted to the authorities which took an inordinate amount of time to get done.
We’d registered with a medical practice in Gaillac—the Drs Chalan, a French husband and wife team recommended by Denise. Both spoke a little English, although hers was better than his. I’d somehow severely twisted my back, could hardly walk and the pain was intense. Steve whizzed me down in the car to the doctors’ surgery, with me yelping in pain on every bump he went over. I couldn’t get comfortable at all. It was just awful.
My appointment was with Mr/Dr Chalan, who was very thorough and gave me an injection in my bottom to give immediate pain relief. My God, the sting from the jab caused me more pain for the first ten minutes. It was so deep, intense and excruciating, I hobbled around the surgery whimpering, with tears streaming down my face. After a week of medication and rest when I could, my back slowly came right. With the amount of bed-making I did, it needed to be fixed.
I booked a return visit to see the doctor as I wanted a referral to visit an osteopath to get some proper work done on my back. This time I saw Mrs/Dr Chalan who was also extremely thorough. She sent me for full blood tests and gave me a slip to get a bone density test done. In France if you want to do any physical activity, such as yoga, join a gym or play sport, you have to provide a clearance letter from your doctor. On a practical level, all the letter states is that your blood pressure and heart are fine. That’s if they are, of course. I wanted to attend a keep-fit class so the doctor gave me a letter for this, too. I was very impressed with Mrs/Dr Chalan.
A few months on, it was time for me to have my annual physical check-ups—a mammogram and smear test. What a vastly different experience these were compared to those done in Auckland.
‘How did you get on?’ Steve asked when I walked through the door late one afternoon, feeling a little flummoxed from the check-ups.
‘Well, where do I begin? It was certainly different. When she asked me to remove my lower clothing, I did so, looking for the sheet to cover myself. There wasn’t one. Nor was there a screen or curtain to pull around me. I lay there starkers, Steve, while she fussed about getting gloves on and preparing the speculum.’
He screwed his face up. ‘What’s a…what’s a speculum?’
‘Oh it’s a thing to, to…oh it doesn’t matter!’ I snapped, filling the kettle at the sink. I was badly in need of a cup of tea and couldn’t be bothered to explain. ‘The weird thing was there was no modesty about the whole experience. I wasn’t exactly embarrassed but I did cover my lady bits with my hands while she got ready. It was really quite odd.’ I stood gazing out of the kitchen window, thinking about it, while the kettle boiled.
With the tea made, I took the cups and saucers from the dresser, putting them on the table. I turned to Steve and leant back against the countertop, folding my arms.
‘Then I went for my mammogram, just across the road. The nurse who showed me into the consulting room was French and…’ I stopped talking. Steve was obviously engrossed in something on the laptop. ‘Are you listening to me? You asked how I got on so I’m telling you.’
‘What? Oh, sorry, yes, go on.’ He was contrite, moving his laptop to one side.
‘The nurse was French and she didn’t speak English. She indicated for me to remove my upper clothing and to leave my things on the chair.’ I poured the tea and took a cup over to him. ‘I looked around for the gown that’s always provided back home but there wasn’t one. In Auckland we always wear a gown and when the radiographer’s ready, you open one side of it and she manipulates your breast between the plates.’ I stopped to draw breath and gulped a welcome mouthful of tea. Steve was still paying attention and listening, probably because I mentioned breasts.
‘There I stood, topless, while she put the X-ray plates into the machine. The nurse then manhandled me into the right position, mashing my breast between two icily cold plates. With a quick swivel around and a change of sides, she then flattened the other breast.’ I winced, remembering the pain.
‘So really, it’s much like a hamburger patty, slapped between two buns, wouldn’t you say?’ Steve smirked and snorted behind his tea cup, enjoying his silly joke. I just rolled my eyes at him and carried on as if I hadn’t heard him.
‘When the radiographer finished, I reached for my clothing. She said in a very stern voice, “Non, madame, non, non, non. S’il vous plaît. Arrêter.” Well I understood that but I thought she meant please stop and wait for your results but she meant stop, don’t put your clothes back on. I sat there, Steve, and waited topless for the doctor. I was getting cold and must have waited a full ten minutes with my arms wrapped around my body and covering my breasts. I got the general impression nudity wasn’t an issue for French women. They seemed proud of their bodies, no matter what size, which is a great thing. The doctor duly arrived and was very nice.’
I took a sip of tea and continued.
‘He was Indian, raised in London and spoke the queen’s English. Communication wasn’t a problem and he maintained excellent eye contact throughout our conversation. His eyes never moved below my chin as he asked me to lie down and proceeded to squirt gel onto each breast.’
‘What a gentleman!’ Steve grinned inanely. I ignored that as well.
‘During the ultrasound, he completed several circuits with the probe, concentrating hard on the screen in front of him. Throughout the entire procedure, he kept up continuous chit-chat about his life in France, the beauty of New Zealand and how he loved London. I think he was putting me at my ease.’
I finished my tea, putting the cup and saucer in the sink, then collected Steve’s from the desk.
‘As soon as the specialist finished, he abruptly stood up, declaring there was nothing to worry about, wished me a good day and exited the room.’
‘Well that was an experience alright.’ Steve slapped his laptop shut and headed for the door. ‘I’m off to do some garden work.’ He stopped in his tracks and turned. ‘Oh and what’s for dinner? I’m starving.’ That man’s stomach ruled his life.
I let out a deep sigh and watched Steve through the window as he traipsed up the steps beside the cottage to the veggie beds. I didn’t know why I bothered telling him. All he needed to know was that everything was fine. When he’d asked, ‘How did you get on?’ I should’ve just said, ‘All good, thanks,’ and left it at that. I never learn.
Thanks to Annemarie for sharing this extract from her second book 'My French Platter Replenished' from her series. I am sure you will love reading about the mouth-watering food she creates, the wonderful people they meet and the glorious French countryside as they journey to a dream life in France.
Where to Buy 'My French Platter Replenished'
My French Platter Replenished: In Search Of A Dream Life in France is available on Amazon in paperback and e-book (Amazon AUS: www.amazon.com.au) and at all good bookshops on request.
My French Platter: A JourneyTo A Dream Life in France is available on Amazon in paperback and e-book (Amazon AUS: www.amazon.com.au) and all good bookshops on request.
Find out more at: https://www.annemarierawson.com/
