A Road Untraveled, and Unexpectedly Good Food

Wednesday, September 2, 2009














































One of the roads from St. Vincent forks just a few hundred feet out of the village. One fork leads to Commerviel, the other to Monhoudou. We've walked along the road to Commerviel to see the sunflower fields and a beautiful house with an impressive glass entrance.

So today we walk toward Monhoudou. It's a funny name for a town in France. It comes from Latin (Mons) and Greek(helios)- a strange marrying of language. Like many other villages, it has very old roots; archaeological finds indicate it was home to the ancient Gauls (as in Julius Caesar's time).

At the first farm, inquisitive white cattle come to the fence to look us over. Two calves poke their noses through the fence, and gaze unwaveringly at me as I take photos. I think they're posing because, after a minute, they turn to the side, displaying their profiles proudly.

Farther along, a break in the hedge reveals five or six black turkeys. As soon as they see us they begin to gobble. We continue to walk. They follow along inside the fence. At last we come to a corner where an even narrower leads to other farms.

Here is the farm gate, and as we approach it, the rest of the turkeys see us. There must be a hundred of them, all facing us and gobbling. It's as if we are conducting a turkey orchestra. They're lined up several rows deep at the gate.

Down the road we see what looks like small horses in a field. As they turn to look at us, we see the long ears. Not horses- perhaps mules or donkeys. As they come nearer the fence, Bernie recognizes the markings - shoulder crosses - they are donkeys. These markings, and the fact that Jesus rode into Jerasulem on a donkey, or ass (the correct term), has made for great legends.

We stay a respectful distance from the fence. Farm kids know donkeys bite, and we both lived on a farm as kids.

Back at Le Verger, our house in St. Vincent, we work at household chores and manage our own flock of cats until dinner time, when we drive to Mamers.

The Chinese restaurant, our first choice, is closed today, so we walk around the square. It's a chilly day and the Cambodian restaurant looks cheery and inviting. Once inside, we see the decor is Chinese Restaurant Anywhere, with pretty paper lanterns, lamps with silk shades, lacquer ware and paintings and sculpture. The menus are printed in French and English. Bernie orders Seven Perfume Shrimp and I choose Beef with Vegetables. Our appetizer, shrimp ravioli (yeah, I know that's Italian but it's how it's described) comes with a delicious dipping sauce.

Chinese beer, lots of green tea. The food is exceptional. At some point it dawns on us that we are sitting in a Cambodian restaurant in a small town in France and acting as if this is commonplace. I know that in many ways it is, but we still have the sense that the focus on our lens to the world is somehow changed.