A Slice of Paradise

I feel I am no longer alive. This is the afterlife, and I am wandering between Heaven and Hell, Ying and Yang.

I was driven out to La Chapelle (The Church), a village out in the countryside. Their I met some friends of my hosts, a mother, father, son and daughter. I don't feel comfortable writing their names for some reason. Their house is surrounded by verdant fields, and I stood and gazed in wonder at the Sun slowly setting, beams of light filtering down from the heavens, happy chatter from the table behind me, where our company is sat in a spacious garden.

We sit down to eat, and the boy punches me in the arm, to mock outrage from me and general laughter from the rest of the table, and says "You  KaKa Buddha!", flicking a ball of weed away from him towards me. I am staggered by his intellect, and Savouin reminds me, smiling: "Kaka is French for shit." I remember later Ka is a wheel. Two wheels?

The father invites me to ride his classic motorcycle, a rare C5000 1975...something...damn. He warns me that the back end is very loose and slippy, and to ride carefully. I cackle maniaclly and push the bike off into the neighbouring field, along the border path. I hop on and ride, exhilirated at the feeling of simultaneously feeling like I am flying while wanting to crash and roll off and laugh. I remember that the bike should not be damaged and slow down, and wheel the bike round at the end of the field, racing back to the house.

Stepping off the back I practice kung fu with the boy while the father wheels the bike back to the garage. We sit down to eat and the boy picks up some potato Duchessé, passing 3 on to my plate. "Mange tout! Mange tout!" he says happily. "Eat all," Savouin translates. I wolf them down and the children giggle. The boy takes another of the circus tent shaped potatoes, and holds it up between his thumb and forefinger rubbing them together between his eyes. He is saying something but I can't understand it, although I recognise the gesture as "Open Your Third Eye".

Later, the children are put reluctantly to bed, and we light up after a meal of lamb ribs and some form of sausage made from pig intestines. We talk more on a variety of subjects, and when I start to talk of Egypt a beetle lands nearby. "A scarab!" I urge it on to my hand and walk over to the table. (http://youtu.be/4TvZJbcN9os - The Scarab Messenger)

We sit and the talk turns to vin, and we consume red (rouge), white (blanc), and rosé. He brings out an alhembric he uses as a bouilleur, a wine-maker (I think)http://youtu.be/scqhnT6WdUo - Des Bouilleurs. We use a cork on a bottle and I think about the purpose of tools as I think back. I mention how I love cidre, and he laughs and brings out a gallon jug with a piece of handkerchief stuffed in the top, resembling for all the world a molotov of Pavlovian proportions. "That looks tres formidable!" I explain, wrecked beyond belief. "Looks like scrumpy - we drink it pretty strong back home." I harrumph, full of faux-patriotic bravado. 15-20% is pretty strong for a cider,right? This stuff is a spirit. Imagine the strongest Sambuca you have ever tasted flavoured with apples instead of whatever the Hell Sambuca is flavoured with.  I shudder as the alcohol courses through me. "Oughabjsyhuyba" I say, or words to that effect. We down the drink, and another is poured. I try to explain a drink should be savoured, and dilute it with water. I am called The Devil, again.  A common trait on my journey so far. I laugh, looking at my feet.

A slightly drunken bottle of Cidrine

"You want a doggy bag?" the father explains, and holds out a pink bag, with Region Central and a Black and White recycling logo, I refuse  initially,misunderstanding, assuming I already had a bag. He laughs and fills it with fresh Tours goat's cheese, remarkably pure, wild boar stuffing or dripping (I'm not entirely sure, Sanglier it says on the label. As I pick it up I notice 2 more labels, SAVAGE PIG of chapelle in black and VERY SERIOUS in red ink. I'm pretty freaked out right now.), a bottle of Montlouis Rosé 2012 ("In memory of The middle of nowhere... "Les CHAPPELES" http://youtu.be/aozIpjsOFOM - Le Vin et Les Chapelles ), a rhoum (rum) bottle with the cidre, labelled "CIDRINE It's your DREAM (cidre)" , some toast bread, some cheuvre frais, and a film roll full of weed.http://youtu.be/v5VWVNgwWJE - Gifts for the Road I shall be in bliss for days. The mother gives me a shirt, inviting me to smell the sweet homely fragrance of the freshly washed. We wave goodbye and I say Bonne Nuit to Savouir and Sophie and head to the Jardin where my private room lies for me to write in peace.

06/05/2013 00:56 GMT+1