The shops in La Bourboule tend to cater to the lowest common
touristic denominator, and mainly specialise in walking sticks, pottery with
flowers, postcard, and similar stuff which loses its appeal rather
quickly. There are one or two shops that
are a bit more up-market, and I try to avoid them. There is also a flea market which I can’t
avoid since it is on the way between my hotel and the Thermes and Le Galapagos.
Yesterday I almost bought a large cooking pot there, of the
type called ‘marmite’. It is a pot which
is bulbous and greater in height than width and used for cooking stews. This one was huge and made of cast iron. It looked like the kind that used to contain
eternal stew – it sat on a corner of the stove and any food that had no obvious
other use was thrown into the pot.
Whenever anyone was hungry they dipped into the pot. I love that sort of thing, especially in
theory. I seriously considered buying
this monster and shipping it to Oxford
for a small fortune – the pot itself was dirt cheap.
After much soul searching I bought a cashmere sweater in the
most expensive shop in town instead. It
has been very cold, and I shivered even wearing a cardigan and a heavy
shawl. The cashmere is very good
quality, I believe. Made in Mongolia . I tend to stick to Scottish cashmere, but
this pullover does feel very good. Not
soft and fluffy but soft and buttery, if you know what I mean.
Every time I go to La Bourboule I buy a golden leaf for one
of my cardigans. It is a little ritual –
one leaf for every visit. This time I
bought a ‘houx’ leaf – that is ‘holly’ in English. To make them they use real leaves and coat
them in gold – the leaf remains inside!
I was a little disappointed when I found out they are actually made in Canada
….
I also buy books in La Bourboule, to help me learn French,
and sometimes DVDs. The selection in the
shops is usually limited, especially at the end of the season, which is when I
show up. However, at the flea market
there is often a good selection, and much cheaper that in the shops, of
course. This time I bought six, but I
think I shall leave most of them in the communal area of the hotel – they are
useless for learning French. If the
actors speak too fast, or use too much slang or strange accents then the movie
is no good to me, so I shall watch ‘Svengali’ and ‘C’est pas mois!’ only
once. ‘Le crime de l’Orient Express’ is
also unsuitable – the accents of some of the actors, especially Poirot, are
insupportable. ‘The Scorpion King – the
Return of the Mummy’ proved an unexpected success. Although I am fascinated by the scorpion king
himself – he is half man half scorpion - I have all sorts of problems with the
storyline. Imhotep is supposed to be a
bad guy? Anubis is on the side of
evil? And the ease with which the
soldiers of Anubis can be dispatches is laughable. Nevertheless I can understand the language
quite well. It is the old story for me –
the less believable a storyline the more slowly people talk and the better I
can understand them. I know all sorts of
words about witches and evil queens and lost orphans and dragons and murdered
corpses hidden inside of trunks and such like, but they are strangely unhelpful
in getting by in modern day France .
The books, too, are difficult to choose. If they are too simple I learn the most, but
get bored very quickly. Also they mainly
consist of pictures. A few days ago I
bought an old favourite of French children, ‘Methode Boscher ou La Journee des
Tout Petits. It rather reminds me of my
first school book, Tür und Tor, aka Tut tut tut ein Auto. I remembered that sentence for 45 years!
In the Methode Boscher there is a page for every letter, for
every sound, and there are lots of examples and pictures. Lots of algebra, too! Unfortunately, strangely, this very basic
textbook contains words which are not listed in my 50,000 word dictionary! ‘Je achete un joujou’ – what on earth is a
‘joujou’? I suspect it isn’t anything
very important, but it bothers me that I don’t know! I am struggling on nevertheless. One day, when the children in the local
school have fully taken me into their hearts, I will ask them. Today they told me that my way of counting on
my fingers had resulted in a risky gesture ….
I daren’t ask yet what a joujou is, I don’t want to acquire a reputation
as a pervert … Some time ago when I asked someone – a grown up, I should add –
what a trüdücül was (it is spelled differently, incidentally) I was told it was
a very unladylike word. It was the last
name of a family in the movie Spaceballs, how was I supposed to know? Learning French is full of tribulations!
PS If you wonder
whether I bought the four foot stuffed crocodile, I did not! Folly has its limits, even with me. What really stopped me was my fear of customs
officials, actually.
