Slippers and Small Villages

What could Grandpa’s slippers and a small village in France possibly have in common? Hand in hand and sole to soul, they share a history of struggle, adaptation through innovation, and sometimes a magical rebirth.

A unique local style of slipper, the pantoufle Charentaises was created in our region in the 1600’s. At the time the local economy was predominately agricultural. Farms were small and folks scraped out a simple living. Hamlets were close together so resources could be shared. Nothing was ever allowed to go to waste. The idea for making slippers took off when someone came up with the idea to use off-cuts from military uniforms, the waste from local paper mills, and a locally made felt used as liners for wooden clogs. Everyone wore clogs and these thick fabric inserts were a godsend. Small attic workshops grew into a thriving industry. By the early 1800’s around 20,000 people were employed in making slippers that were shipped out all across France.  With a steady income from dependable jobs, folks had money to build homes and support local businesses. Store keepers built apartments above their thriving shops, factory workers built new housing at the entrances to the villages and the nearby farmers improved their properties. Bourdeilles is a good example of this population and housing boom - the population of Bourdeilles was around 4,000 by the mid-1800’s. Village streets were lively with grocers, butchers, bakeries, bicycle shops, barrel makers, etc. Everyone clomped around in their wooden clogs and everyone had at least two pairs of pantoufle Charatiases, one for for the work day and one for evenings in front of the fireplace.  At the end of those busy days villagers swept up the front stoop and closed up freshly painted shutters.

But time and styles moved on and the lumpy, brown, plaid design of the Charentaises didn’t change a bit. Desperate when folks stopped wearing wooden clogs, creative thinkers added a rubber sole to the felted slippers. For now, the industry held on. The footwear that was so comforting in front of the fireplace was now— thanks to the rubber soles—sturdy enough go outside to collect wood, feed the chickens or pop into the grocery. And more! The iconic slippers were favored in stately homes to reduce the sound of servants’ footsteps. They were reputed to be the preferred shoes of jewelers at their bench, the coarse fabric collecting any gold or gem fragments. 

But stately homes came on hard times and the younger generation didn’t want to be caught dead in Grandpa’s ugly pantoufle Charentaises. Slipper sales dropped to nearly nothing. One by one local factories closed. Young folks moved away, houses were left empty when the grandparents moved out. The shutters along main street stayed closed and unpainted. The street sweeper drank a wee bit too much and disappeared. The population of Bourdeilles dropped to around 500 tired souls. 

However there has always been a few die hard supporters of the homely Charentaises. These stubborn businesses struggled to get away from the image of frumpy and plaid and yet keep the classic style of the slipper —“they are not sad our slippers! They can be happy!” 

In 2005 the governor of the region organized a design competition at the top Paris design schools. One hundred and seventy six snappy pairs of slippers were presented during Paris fashion week followed by a runway show at the Eiffel Tower.  Fashionistas started to take notice. Folks wanted in on the campy, nostalgic, made-in-France heritage. Nowadays brightly colored slippers are lined up right next to the traditional plaid (because Grandpa still wants his low-key, wear all day footwear). In 2006 the local slipper was granted regional protection from the National Industrial Property Institute. It is just the eighth time this prestigious French protection has been awarded. Two other items from the Nouvelle Aquitaine that have been awarded the same regional protection are Limoges porcelain and Aubusson tapestries. Being on the list guarantees that only the slippers made in a fixed geographic area, and to certain standards, can use the name pantoufle Charentaise. The industry is climbing back with about 200 people fabricating slippers in the region. And like Grandpa’s slippers that cling to the essential basics of their heritage, our small villages are coming back into style with younger families. Shutters are once again opening and closing with the rhythm of the day. Struggles with the vagaries of history continue for a small village, but for now there is a lively independent soul trying to take hold.

The Wilds of Paris

 I've started to dream of going on a safari, but for now I've settled for an overnight in the wilds of Paris--

Dreaming of July

 The year 2023 has started off foggy and damp and yet already our small village is a buzz with news of something coming our way on a hot, hopefully sunny, July day.

Our narrow, potholed, grungy main street is going to be swept through by Le Tour de France. 

The Tour!

It’s hard to explain my wild enthusiasm for this event normally experienced from my armchair. I am bubbling over with excitement that for an afternoon our elegant and history filled region is going to be the focus of attention of the entire world. I’ve even discovered the count down clock on the official Tour site. Today the start is 173 days 14hours 8 minutes and 10 seconds away.

For years I’ve spent July afternoons watching the Tour on television in the cool comfort of home. I’ve wasted hours cheering for those crazy young men beating themselves up, holding my breath as they scream down insane mountain lanes and hoping they keep their legs pumping as they struggle up even steeper mountain peeks. I dream of visiting the incredibly diverse countryside artistically revealed by the television crews. 

This July 8th I’ll be live in person cheering and partying along the route of stage 8 Libourne - Limoges  201 KM.

I’ll brave whatever weather nature throws at us, pull up a beach chair, gather up a bunch of friends, and sit for hours waiting for some crazy athletes in brightly colored jerseys to come whizzing by in the flash of an eye. I’ve already started to scrutinize where I can maximize this fleeting experience. Do I want to watch them gliding past long sweeps of sunflowers? Do I want to try to get a birds eye view from a house along the main street? Or do I want to anxiously stand on the very narrow very tight right hand turn that starts the climb up main street? They’ll be coming flying into that nasty turn from a long straightaway. There will certainly be entanglements.

It has been thirty three years since the peloton raced up the main street of Bourdeilles. Friends tell me of sitting at their grandmother’s tables impatiently getting through lunch hoping not to miss the big event. These old timers remember hearing cheers, jumping up from the lunch table and running out the front door. The cheering swept up the street, a flash of colors zipped by within arms reach, and swoosh the riders were gone. Folks turned to look at each other on the narrow sidewalk wondering if they had really seen anything  - there was nothing but dust settling. One friend say she thinks she spotted the yellow jersey, maybe.

No one has started to plan yet, but with warmer weather we’ll start to plot how to create some roadside eye-catching thing to draw an extra nanosecond of attention to our impressive medieval chateau and its 40-meter tower perched over the Dronne River. The helicopter and the history announcer will appreciate our help in showing off France.

Our small village anticipation will last for months, but the helicopters and the riders will pass in the blink of an eye. You can be sure that most, well lots, of Bourdeilles 500-some citizens will be looking for the swag and letting go of some big small town cheers.

Chateau de la Mercerie

Chateau de La Mercerie - Le petit Versailles of the Charente

As we seem to do quite often, we’d taken a wrong turn. The country lane was narrow and twisty with no place to turn around. Suddenly I yelped, “look look!” and Tom was looking, but also driving. It seemed we’d more than made a wrong turn, we’d fallen down a rabbit hole and tumbled out into a fantasy realm. You couldn’t miss the imposingly magisterial building spread out before us. Someone with extravagant schemes and dreams had been here before us. 

Back in Bourdeilles a couple of friends told me childhood memories of Sunday drives to picnic on the abandoned yet still decorated grounds of the mystery chateau. They’d race each other up and down the shady pathways and play hide and seek around the feet of the statues in the arches of the grand colonnade. This was the 1960’s and gods and goddess still stood proudly on their pedestals.

A year or two later I visited the abandoned property. We could only press our faces up against the broken window panes to glimpse blue tiles covering walls two stories high. Streaks of sunshine passed through enormous doorways that led into grand rooms we could not see. The dilapidated chateau looked like a stack of legos that would collapse if you sneezed. One could no longer play hide and seek along the grand colonnade, the statues had all disappeared.

Soon after that visit I started seeing articles in the local newspaper. A group of local citizens had taken on the gargantuan project of restoring the place. I guess impossible dreams are contagious. 

But, let’s start over. 

This sweep of land has been occupied by some sort of home since the early 1500’s. In 1892 the original building was torn down and a fanciful, turreted castle was built in the Troubadour style.

In 1924 two brothers bought the property for 80,000 French francs - about $12,000. Having bought the property at a bargain price they proceeded to pour their fortunes into constructing their dream -  to build a modern day Versailles. 

Who were these two ambitious, obsessed young men with such a passion for beautiful things? Having survived a car accident that killed their older brother, the two younger brothers, Raymond and Alphonse, were knitted together for the rest of their lives. Raymond was noted for his eloquent oratory and his writing. Alphonse was a medical student who saw himself as an architect.

Someone suggested that Raymond could make a very good living in politics in the newly prospering Charente region. He followed this advice heading south from his family home in the Loire valley. He was introduced to the humble chateau of La Mercerie and immediately purchased it. He went to “work” in politics and was elected to the National Assembly where he participated  from 1958 - 1978. 

Meanwhile Alphonse quit his medical studies to join his brother in dreaming up ways to improve the chateau. He began designing buildings and over seeing the monumental work. Local stone cutters and artisans were employed full time working right on location. While some workers updated the Troubadour Chateau others were constructing the 220 meter long grand facade. 

Raymond loved traveling and discovering artist and antiques wherever he went. The blue tile “paintings”  are Azulejos commissioned from Portugal. Returning from a trip to Italy he brought back a painter and a sculpture to realize even more of Alphonses’ dreams. They wanted to commission their own masterpieces for their chateau. Original paintings and sculptures completed the impressive centerpiece of the chateau, a replica of The Hall of Mirrors of Versailles.

By 1975 all the monies had run out. All work came to a complete stop. Alphonse died in 1983. Raymond still an honorary parliamentarian died at the age of 85. Having no heirs he decided to leave the property to the daughter of his gardener, but, the young woman died in a car accident. He then tried to give the property to the French government, they declined the offer. He then tried to leave it to the city of Angouleme - they also said no thanks ( but they did take 5,000 books from the library).

In the end everything that could be carried away was auctioned off in 1987. The abandoned property loomed over the valley like a phantom ship until 2011 when the property was bought by the local commune. Work started right away to save the crumbling monster. If only the two brothers could see the love and care being given to their extravagant and impossible dream.

Tom and I drove back over the other day to see what we could see. The chateau is all cleaned up, the walls sturdy and the windows glistening. It turns out the blue tiles are magnificent scenes of ocean storms, bucolic farmyards and romantic interludes. The arches of the grand colonnade are still empty, but it is easy to dream that they too will one day be full of gods and goddesses with children picnicking at their feet.

-- 

Standing in Line

 Standing in lines at the Friday farmer’s market I have time to slow down. The other day I realized I was listing out things I have learned during all these minutes— more like  hours— of standing waiting for a package of heart shaped goat cheese or a baguette baked with local grains. 

My simple list of basic observations made me think of the phrase “everything I really need to know I learned in kindergarten” - I know that isn’t really the exact quote but this is how it is in my brain.

Instead of being a young kindergartener soaking up life I’m now an old dog learning new tricks. That kindergarten child was playing with a bunch of rambunctious friends. This old timer is standing quietly in lines with well-practiced French folks. My observations have revealed a lot about how to best experience the French culture.

1.  The best foods are where there is a long line. And you always want the best.

2.  You will have to wait patiently for your turn to get the best.

3.  You better look for the end of the line because you will not be allowed to cut in.

4.  Listen to the conversations swirling around you, one day you will realize you are understanding the sing song of the locals.

5.  Observe how folks are dressed and what kind of basket they carry - better than any fashion magazine.

6.  Notice what others are buying and try it too.

7.  Be brave and ask questions about what you don’t know - how to cook something, why that cheese, what goes with that?

8.  People love to help, and they love to laugh at my accent and the simple things I don’t know. 

9.  Folks are generous.

10. Say hello. Say good bye.

11. Once you are at the head of the line you are queen for a moment.

12. Don’t touch things without first asking.

13. You may have to listen to others as they tell their life story before you get served. You cannot rush this.

14. Every vendor is extremely proud of what they have brought to the market. They will take time to explain anything you want to know. No-one standing behind you will say a thing.  They already know the rules.

15. The locals are thinking of you as a kindergartener.

16. LOOK. This was the first word in the first book of the Dick and Jane series.  For getting to the heart of the French culture, it is as important to this old learner as it was to the kid learning the ropes in kindergarten.