Halloween Foie Gras

Apparently Limoges used to be the Halloween capital of France. Not so this year, when the streets were silent and still. I had even made a special trip to Champion to buy bonbons for the occasion, but nary a knock on the door. So Pierre and I ate Snickers with our aperitif, while carving a baby pumpkin. The garden produced a few massive pumpkins this Fall, but Pierre was stingy (great soup material!) so I was left with the pathetic runt. Then we headed over to Vincent and Marielle's for dinner. (Pierre donned his gangsta rapper costume from last year, and all I had was a black/purple wig). Our friends greeted us wearing silk suits from Vietnam, and we dined on foie gras (and more bonbons for dessert).

In Halloween discussions with Parisian friends, they puzzle at the commercial aspect of it: candy, costumes, decorations, to buy, buy, buy. And when I defended Halloween as a hilarious, fun, non-religious, pagan extravaganza, we discovered the impasse. Most French holidays are religious, while the United States celebrates secular, all-inclusive shindigs like Halloween and Thanksgiving. In fact, All Souls Day is a huge deal here-- akin to El Dia de los Muertos in El Salvador-- and most families take a week's vacation. So when I went to Champion on my Snickers mission, the check-out lines snaked down the aisles (I'd never seen the place so packed) because folks were stocking up before the store closed for the holiday.

The grey, Fall streets come alive with color during All Saints Day. Beautiful bouquets and potted plants of autumnal reds, browns, bright yellows, and deep orange. The floral shops are mobbed, because the French buy flowers to decorate the gravestones and celebrate the lives of the departed. The cemetary is still awash with color, the tombs polished and gleaming after their annual cleaning.

Sahara Sand Storms

A few weeks ago, after a rainstorm, we noticed a strange layer of rust-colored dirt all over the car. Swipe your finger through it, smear the rain-splattered drops, and the thick grit dissolved like orange kool-aid. The neighbor informed us that heavy winds brought Sahara sand across the Mediterranean and deposited it in Limoges. I hate to think what the winds would do if there was a mishap with one of the nearby nuclear reactors.