Silent Movies in Chalabre.

    French departments have very clear-cut identities. Here, in the Ariège, our official number--09-- shows up on our license plates, in our postal code and is the name of our weekly free newspaper. In the Aude, our neighbouring department, the magic number is 11 (departments are organized in alphabetical order). Each department has its own edition of La Dépêche, the regional newspaper which is the go-to source for info on local fêtes and so on.    

    This explains why, because we live right on the border of the Ariège and the Aude, we often don't hear about what's happening five, let alone 50, kilometres, from where we live. It was pure dumb luck that we saw posters advertising silent movies in Chalabre, starting at 8:30 p.m.

     Being late didn't bother any of us as we all suspected that, this being France, events wouldn't get underway exactly on time--and that there would probably be speeches. When we arrived, a man on a ladder was straightening the screen and the speeches--or rather speech--hadn't even started. 

      Speech over, and a minor technical glitch solved by a member of the audience, the show got underway.

      The films were all by Georges Méliès, whose grandfather had a connection with Chalabre, the films dated back to the late 1800s and early 1900s. This wasn't exactly the era of computer-generated images so, given the primitive equipment then available, the special effects were outstanding. 

      You can watch several on YouTube. Each frame in the Loie Fuller film I've linked to was coloured by hand. (Historical side-note: Fuller was the dancer whose work inspired numerous art nouveau figurines.)

    This version has background music, which was probably how audiences would have viewed it over a century ago. We watched in silence. Then, at the end of the evening, we all carried our metal chairs to the end of the covered market and went home.

An Unprecedented Haul at the Vide Grenier

Last year's flea market in Chalabre was vast, enormous--but, we didn't arrive till late in the day and we left without buying anything. This time, we set the alarm, gulped down some yogurt and nectarines, and were there by 8:30 a.m. Even that early on a Sunday morning, parking was a challenge. But, oh, it was worth it. Six hours later (but that included lunch) we left, laden with finds. 

   Shop these events regularly and you develop a list. On ours this morning were more baskets for bread, more water glasses and more big preserving jars to hold dried beans, raisins and the like. Not only did we almost immediately find a bread basket like the ones we already have but soon after the water glasses showed up too. No luck with preserving jars but I know I can pick them up any time at the depot-vente. 

   The list contains sensible, necessary things. The rest of what we bought today falls into the "impulse item" category. 

   Here's just some of it. Top to bottom: 

   Against a background of a copy of one of the "Lady with the Unicorn" tapestries (which cost a massive three euros) is a hard-bound blank-paged book published as a souvenir of the Exposition Universelle in Paris in 1889--the year the Eiffel Tower was finished. Its first few pages are filled with mathematical equations but most of the pages are blank. All, due to age, are brown at the edges as though they've been dipped in coffee.         I'm not sure how much you can make out of the four postcards. The top one, of the chateau here in Léran, is addressed to a Mademoiselle Alphonsine (now there's a name) Rousset, and has a 1939 postmark. Just below that is an image of Aigues-Mortes on the edge of the Camargue. This was sent to a Monsieur Gabon. I can't make out the date. 

    No messages on the next one down which shows Le Palais de la Jetée in Nice. A little research revealed that the Germans dismantled this during World War 11 because it was in the way of their gunfire. Finally, we have a vue générale of Toulon. Written in 1927, a long message in red ink and the tiniest. neatest hand-writing crams its reverse side. I'll need a magnifying glass to translate it. What an astounding amount of history condensed into a few pieces of ephemera.

   The next photo is of a small hand-made mat, partly crocheted, partly embroidered and completely non-functional thanks to its three-dimensional crocheted grapes. 

   The most expensive find of the day was the ten euros I paid for this art deco (or deco-esque) wooden carving of an Egyptian deity.  There's talk of attaching this to the newel post at the bottom of the stairs--but only talk at this point. 

   The last find was the pierrot lamp which we bought just as we were making our way back to the car. To judge from its switch, it's quite old. I think it will find a home in our spare bedroom. And I think the bulb needs to be replaced by something moon-like.

A Vide Grenier in Chalabre

The term literally means "attic emptying". Call it the French version of a swap meet, car-boot sale or community yard sale...

This one kicked off at 7 a.m. but it was well past 9:30 by the time we arrived in Chalabre, a large village about 15 minutes away. One of the main streets was clogged with traffic, the other closed off and lined with stalls with more stalls shoehorned into the narrow side streets. 

A kit for slicing and serving foie gras. Monogrammed linen sheets, never used. Enough plastic toys and kids clothes to delight and outfit half the smaller residents of southern France. Paperbacks, record albums, posters, plates...

  Some of our home furnishings were finds at vide greniers but this time, no luck.We looked longingly at a 1940s sideboard, all curves and carved flowers and only 50 euros. No space for it at the moment. A green-painted art nouveau stove, the same. Both are now in other people's homes or, possibly, have moved up the secondhand social scale to a brocante where they will sell for double the price.