The Grass Is Always Greener...

“Just inland from Narbonne, where the train stops for half an hour, is a village where you can buy Bob Blooming saddles and saddle soap and bridles from a man who, in his head, lives in the American Far West. He teaches cowboy-style riding: how to bring your horse to an instant standstill from a flat-out gallop. There is no practical application for this skill, unless you have it in mind to go for gallops on the British Airways runway at Perpignan airport, or impress girls at the beach.” -----Helen Stevenson, Instructions for Visitors: Life and Love in a French Town.

Somewhere in south of France, there is a man who would gladly trade places with me. He spends his time longing for the American West, grooming horses and living like the Ringo Kid. I spend my days scented with lavender, learning French and painting my western kitchen the colors of Provence. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.

Ms. Stevenson obviously has never attended a rodeo. The skill of bringing a horse to an instant standstill is just one of the many skills in horse riding and cattle roping competition. I’m sure my reverse twin in Narbonne could have told her that.



John Wayne plays a character named, "The Ringo Kid" in his first talking western.

Ex-pats

Today I got an email from Amazon Books. They like to suggest books and CDs based on purchases I have made before. I always like to look through these lists. I’ve noticed a pattern in the genre of books they suggest. There seems to be a good deal of fictional or non fictional accounts of Americans (and sometimes the British) buying houses in France. The story is always the fulfillment of a life long dream of living in a charming French village filled with quirky and interesting characters. I have read several of these kinds of books. But now there seems to be a flood of these kinds of novels. There were 15 on my list today. I think France is being invaded by American ex-patriates, buying up real estate and then writing about it.

I wonder if there are any French ex-pats living here in the states and writing about it? And would those books sell in France?

I know there are French people here in New Mexico. Just this weekend, I met a French woman who told me she had ‘escaped’ from Paris when she was 18 and had lived all over the world. She was selling her photographs at a Winter Farmer's Market here in Albuquerque. I didn't ask her if she was happy that she had landed in the western desert. From her photos, she had found many interesting things here to photograph. Three of her pictures are featured in a New Mexico 2006 calendar. I wonder if she's bought a house? I wonder what she'd tell French people about her life here.

Petroglyphs

Our neighborhood is next door to Petroglyph National Park. A petroglyph is a figure carved, pecked, chipped or abraded into stone. In this case all the Petroglyphs are carved into volcanic boulders. I’ve always been fascinated with this ‘rock art’ carved by some ancient peoples thousands of years ago. I’ve sought out rock art sites in several states to take pictures and just to stand there and wonder about what some prehistoric man was trying to say. Or was it just some ancient adolescent graffiti?

My daughter goes to Petroglyph Elementary School. When we first enrolled her I thought it was really lame that their school mascot was a Macaw. What did a tropical bird have to do with Petroglyphs or the south western desert of New Mexico? Silly me. I found out on my first hike through the boulders in the national park. There wasn’t just one obvious parrot on a rock… but there were many. The ancient ancestors of the Native Americans valued the feathers of the macaw. There is evidence they traveled and traded with the Indians in the jungles of Mexico and South America.

Also I found the famous Kopepelli. He’s the happy and often well endowed little flute player you can find reproduced on any South Western Décor. Well, on home décor they leave off the part that shows he’s happy to see ya.



Kopepelli...he's happy to see you.




An ancient drawing of a macaw