Stately, either way

What is a castle? What is a chateau?

Other words that might appear in a word cloud with these are “manor house,” “palace,” “fortress,” and “country house.” One thing they all have in common: they are grand. And hopefully have turrets?

Pause for aside: what is a turret? From the Italian word for little tower, Wikipedia defines it as a small tower that projects vertically from the wall of a building.

More than once, I’ve wished I had the opportunity to take that AP architecture class like my daughter did.

Anyway, when trying to define a castle, I think it helps to narrow it down to a century and a country. If I were British and in Britain, I think I’d call the place we are staying a “manor house.” Locals here call it a chateau. It was built in around 1850 by a (noble?) family that probably had lots of land holdings in the area. Unlike the nearby extremely grand hunting lodge (that also looks like a castle), I’m pretty sure this place was meant to be a year-around family residence.

In my mind, castles are medieval and involve motes. As for chateaus? In Canada, they are often old hotels at train stations. And places like Château de Versailles are really just palaces set in the country. I associate French chateau with the Alps for some reason.

My point is: the idea behind castle (or chateau) covers lots of centuries, lots of types of architecture and owners under a variety of circumstances – from royal to landowner. I’m happy to have had a chance to think this through, even if the conclusion isn’t entirely satisfying – thanks for reading!

Staircase, and a question

Three weeks in the castle, and I’m just now getting used to the stairway. The stairs are lovely, in the way that old steep creaky wooden structures are lovely (and a little scary). As far I know, the wood has never been painted, and the handrail has been held onto by how many hands over how many decades since 1850?

And, obsessed as I am with the knowledge that the place was occupied by Nazis in the mid ’40’s, I’m aware that my hands are passing over the same handrails as those guys!

When I descend from our little rustic apartment in the attic, I hold onto a couple of the landing balusters as I start down from second floor to main floor. Like a spiral staircase, this one has fan-shaped treads and as I take my first step down, I’m on the narrow side. Why? Because the wide side is over by the outside edge and I’m not fond of looking over the edge.

There is another stairway in one of the turrets of the castle, and there may be one or two small ones that are blocked off by renovation. I haven’t really spent any time observing the other stairway, but I’m sure I will at some point. We have a few months to explore in depth.

After the main landing, the central staircase goes down one more level and ends up at the cellar area, which we’ll have to talk about someday. There is an old brick furnace down there for burning coal. No, we don’t have to shovel coal; thank goodness. I wonder when the last time is was used. Come to think of it, it’s a little frustrating not to know more about the history of the castle.

One more thing – what is the difference between a chateau and a castle? How do you define each? Tomorrow I’ll give you my rundown, as the expert that I am (haha).

Somebody's old stairs — A few of the hidden parts of the castle aren’t ready for prime-time; this is a random Google screenshot of mine, but representative.

A cared-for staircase — Wonder what this looked like before the renovation.

Killed During the War

When I drive around my hometown in Colorado, I don’t see buildings that were occupied by the Nazi’s in 1941. In the U.S., I read about the war. It feels different to be where it happened. The Nazi’s occupied all of right here. Not even a mile away, the Nazi’s took over an estate (where we go for a walk most days) and hosted Japanese submarine officers.

Then, the RAF bombed the estate in 1944, and a week or so later the following Americans were killed helping liberate the town where we now buy our groceries. trevarez bombing
Hoyt A. Cannon

Martin J. Clark

Chester Galloway

John N. Hall

Ruby A. McKinney

Anthony J. Pilipaic

Edward J. Powers

Donald D. Roehm

Paul D. Shaver

Stanely A. Turar

Harold R. Yoder

Daily Walk

One of the things you might look forward when IMG_20181010_174643458 dreaming about house-sitting for several months is that you only have at most two hours a day of responsibility. So you ponder how you’d be filling that extra time. (Similar to looking forward to retirement, for any of you 50-somethings.)

We have a 3/4 mile loop on the grounds that we walk at least a couple times a day. A cat or two will join us for the first 50 yards or so, if we go slow enough. Slowing down is one of the reasons we are here.

Slow down and savor life. Sounds do-able. But giving yourself everything you need to be in the present moment doesn’t mean you will be capable of it.

“Having time” doesn’t mean anything, I found out quickly. Skill-building in savoring is required. (Equally, “not having time” also means nothing.)

What were my plans? You know I’ll finally get all my steps in, right? But what else? Probably reading, learning French, core strengthening, noticing more, writing a blog (it helps you notice everything), meditating for more than just 5 minutes, appreciating new food, sketching, Netflix-and-Chilling with zero guilt, hiking, soul-examining, bird watching, sitting by the fire.

But – news flash – we’ve been here two and a half weeks, and I’m just realizing that it doesn’t happen just because you made time for it. I can still spend my days worrying, fiddling, online shopping, and reading the BLASTED NEWS! I’ve realized I have to really plan my days to include true priorities, and I have to be willing to let them take a lot of time. Taking my time is not my forte.

But I seem to be getting better at embracing slow, deliberate pacing and doing something important to me most days. IMG_20181010_174508998_HDR

Heavy Sigh

Realists knows cats aren’t at the top of the food chain for nothin’. Today one of our French charges killed a tiny, adorable blue tit. (A blue tit is like a chickadee, but in a Polariod-tinted yellow and blue instead of black and white.)

Outdoor cat owners always maintain the false hope that their cats are “too lazy, too busy with other things, only interested in vermin-y mice,” etc. etc. All false.

SO, if I were Empress of the World, I’d institute a new regulation today that would generate over a billion dollars for bird conservation.

EMPRESS OF THE WORLD REG 1.1 Yes, you can have an outdoor cat. I can see a few reasons why you might have few other options. However, for each outdoor cat, you must register and pay an annual fee of $3,000, plus an admin tax of $50. The fee will go directly to habitat preservation. You’ll also be required to take a reality class so you can’t maintain the delusion that YOUR LITTLE DARLING would not kill a bird or desirable mammal.

(I know… I’ll have to turn off comments for this post – this is, er, a controversial topic.)
IMG_20181008_122215038_HDR 35484899762_3d56359720_b

Butter Up, Candy Up

The food in western France, you ask? Well, you haven’t asked, but I will tell you anyway. We haven’t ventured out to eat much yet, as grocery store food is still entrancing. We’ve had two sandwich stops, however. There is a place next to the supermarket that seems super popular so we stopped there. The Europeans in general seem to like to pre-make a pile of sandwiches and place them behind a glass counter, so we were able to “point” our order, which always helpful when you can’t speak the language. These sandwiches are on one type of bread only. I’d call it baguette, but they probably don’t. The baguette is split and inside is variously placed meat (roast beef, ham), cheese (lots of kinds, who knows!) and veggies (lettuce, tomato and little tiny pickles).

Our other sandwich stop occurred on Sunday, when we went for a drive, and arrived too late to get lunch at a nice restaurant (lunch ends at 2 pm sharp). So, we were lucky enough to find a bakery that also made sandwiches. Baguettes with butter, ham, cheese, lettuce and tomato (that is what we knew the words for, so that is what we got.)

A couple hours before that we’d gone to a school’s autumn festival – it had a number of craft and food booths, an outdoor pumpkin and squash market and two of the mom’s were making crepes so I ordered one. Our hostess had told me to always order cider when I have a crepe, so by pantomiming and mispronouncing, I asked for one and “POP,” they opened what looked like a champagne bottle and I got a little plastic cup of sparkling alcoholic cider.

Next, after we finally eat out, I’ll have more to say about food. Our to-do list has two restaurants that a local has recommended.

Two more food notes, from the supermarket: these folks are serious about their butter – there is a refrigerated isle that is mostly butter selections. I picked a regional butter and it is superb! I also couldn’t resist a chocolate milk called CANDY UP!, mostly because I wanted to show you the picture. IMG_20181009_090723240

French Doors

Just door maintenance alone would be overwhelming to me, if I were the one who owned a castle.

pencil_sketch_1539083992866 — One of 14 doors exiting the castle. Most are double (or FRENCH) doors.

pencil_sketch_1539084025769 — Several internal doors are like these – very tall.

We have fourteen that exit to the outside. Interior doors? An educated guess is about 50-60 doors, including bathroom doors. How many doors at your place? At home in the US, our 2-bedroom townhouse has maybe 7 all together. But wait! The castle next door is waaaay bigger. The surprising thing about the really big, fancy chateaus (to me, anyway) is that many were hunting lodges – used one month or two a year. The one we are castle-sitting was a regular residence, however, since the mid-19th century.

IMG_20181008_153242593 — The castle down the road is a public museum now, and 10 times bigger than “ours.” It was built to be used as a hunting lodge a month or so a year.

Postcard for you followers

Hello – I’m taking a break from reporting today, but since I have 10 whole followers – I have a challenge for you. Guess the number of doors in the castle (description here) and I’ll send you a postcard from France! You don’t have to be right, you just have to guess. And since all my followers are known to me at this point, you’ll feel comfortable PM’ing me your address and I’ll get busy buying postcards, then going to the post office (the lady there seems nice) and sending you a card! Put your guess in the comments.

The Cast of Cats

About cat-sitting in France…

The first time someone asked me if the cats would understand English, I froze. Had I forgotten to worry about something? I would hate to forget to worry!

But question was tongue in cheek. We all know that cats speak one language, Cat, and they assume their associates speak it, too. (Some see this as arrogance, but I think of it as innocence. They are what they are – cats never pretend.)

We speak pretty good cat and three of our charges have come to love us. One is a holdout, and I have a ways to go in understanding this cat with feral leanings. Hopefully with patience we will come to understand each other better.

The cats come and go outside as they please. Hear that sigh? That is my sigh of disapproval…but I know firsthand that keeping a cat behind a door when you have a lot of random people coming and going is just not practical.

Well-known unfortunate-behavior is the same here: The cats have a couple of litter boxes, but have been known to poop in corners and pee on the curtains. They vomit up grass and food and they scratch stuff that we would rather didn’t.

AND they roll over for belly rubs and twirl their tails around your feet. They purr, purr, purr. And cuddle up next to you in the sun.

Even though I say that cats speak their own universal language, here are a couple of French-speaking cat videos – with English subtitles. Enjoy!

Oh, Chateau!