bingo

Changes

David Bowie Photo — Couldn’t resist hauling out a photo of David Bowie ©1980 Ron Scherl

I’m packing up and heading back to San Francisco; 18 months in a village of 900 people is a long time for a city kid. It’s been a good and productive time. The photo book is now in shape and being considered for publication. The all-text version is progressing and I plan to get out of town before the fictional version appears. So I’ve returned to being a photographer and also begun to discover a voice as a writer. And in a more serious vein, I’ve also become an expert pizzaiolo and make a pretty good bagel as well.

I thought for a while that I would move to Perpignan but the more I thought, the more I realized I really wanted to go back home. That’s what happens here in the winter, you spend a lot of time indoors, in your own head. Actually, it’s amazingly warm here at the moment. I just came from coffee in the garden of some friends, opened the windows and even sat on the terrace for a while. It’s a shock after last year’s very cold winter. Now that I have all the windows covered with Saran Wrap, it’s 72^o and sunny.

I’ve been spending a lot of time on Craig’s list lately looking for apartments and it’s like a drug. I see photos that look great and think I could be happy there, and then I feel happy, for a few minutes. As my new friend Claire said, it’s like online dating. Of course as an experienced Photoshop user, I’m very wary of the validity of the photos, although it’s much more likely that they’re photos of another apartment rather than retouched photos of the actual place. But not only are the fees through the roof, there’s enormous competition for what is available, all those facebookers, tweeters and googleites need to live somewhere and they clearly prefer the city to the valley.

Going home is a good thing, so is starting a new chapter. Going back to a familiar and comfortable place feels right, just as leaving it was right at the time, but changing circumstances and a different attitude will bring new challenges. And that’s also a good thing. One of the down sides of a small rural village is that for most people roles are defined by tradition: many of those playing bingo at the seniors club are no older than me, but their roles seem to have been pre-determined; they appear to be following a script. This is what you do when you reach a certain age. Not true for everyone, but the narrow offerings of a small village do limit options and imagination. As I write this, the 5:30 loudspeaker announcement from the Mairie is indeed about tomorrow’s “séance de loto.”

I can, of course, come back here and I will. I still have my share of the house and I have made friends that I’d like to keep. But for now, while the blog will continue, I think I’ll put my bingo career on hold.

Outside/In

I was writing last week about the distancing effect of photography and while there’s some truth to that, it doesn’t have to be that way. In fact, it can be quite the opposite. Photography can be an effective means of entry into societies that would otherwise have been closed. The issue is what you do with the access.

Looking back, I’m disappointed that I never made more of almost complete access to the San Francisco Opera for twenty years. Several book projects were started, none completed, a portrait series never reached the critical mass necessary for publication or exhibit.

For a long time, I felt I just needed to do my assignments well and the rest would fall into place. But that is not enough, not in a creative profession and probably not in any other. What matters, what defines you, is how far you go beyond the requirements. This may be motivated by ambition, desire for recognition, passion or all three. I don’t think it matters. For career advancement or personal satisfaction, you have to find the drive to do more.

Looking ahead, I don’t intend to make that mistake again. I’ve come here to explore this place, get to know it and produce a work I value. The motivation may be any or all of those above or maybe something else that I’m not even conscious of; again, it doesn’t matter. It’s slow and frustrating, but since that’s how I’d also describe my progress learning French, I’d say there’s a strong possibility the two are related. But there is progress, I finally got Jean-Roger and Marie to sit still for an interview and I’ll keep reminding them of their promise to help with access to their families, my key to the town’s history. The book is taking shape, although a different one than I expected before I came here and the work is good. The writing is better than I anticipated and I think I’m a better photographer now than I’ve ever been. To prove it, I’ve arranged to have an exhibit in the Maison du Terroir in April.

So, to those of you who responded privately to the last post, stop worrying.

In other news, there’s snow on the hills and I still haven’t won at Bingo.

The Social Scene

Dear Diary,

The holiday social scene in Maury is heating up and getting to be more hectic than fashion week in Paris. The bisous are flying and it’s all I can do to keep up.

Tuesday I dropped in on the Club du Troisième Age to get a few pix of a hot bingo session. It was crowded and intense, maybe 75 people in the club HQ competing for bags of groceries. And they come prepared. They have sets of markers, usually with metal rings and a magnetic bar to collect them and keep them at hand. The moderator keeps a crisp pace going while adding a little cultural reference to each number; e.g., 51 is pastis, 89 is Mammie, 90 is Pappi. And they just keep going. I was there two hours and there wasn’t even a break for coffee.

Thursday was outdoor activity day, mushroom hunting which is a competitive sport around here. Ben was my guide and as we were heading to his car a neighbor stopped us to ask where we going. Ben coyly answered that we were just out for a walk but no one was fooled. “Everyone goes to the same places, you just try to get there before they’re all picked,” he told me when we got in the car. There wasn’t exactly a traffic jam in the forest but several cars and a fair number of people with plastic bags, walking sticks and sturdy shoes. But Ben got us into the woods and started my education, pointing out the desired variety barely visible under mounds of pine needles and condition, not too soft or with worm holes and showing me how to ease it out of the ground and trim the stem. When I pointed out the bright orange color staining my hands, he told me that tomorrow I’d also be peeing orange and not to worry. I made one attempt to point out a prize specimen that he had seemed to miss but when it turned out to be a rock I decided to just follow Ben’s lead.

Back in town, we saw Bardot was painting the café kitchen and stopped in for the latest update on the expected reopening. I’ve never seen Bardot without a cigarette in his mouth which was now adding a cool gray ash to the white paint, and his southern accent is nearly impossible to understand but I managed to get “next weekend” accompanied by an expressive shrug which no doubt indicated that one should add “more or less” to that estimate. Since the first rumored grand reopening was November 1, I’ll wait and see.

Friday night Michel and Angelique had a small gathering of neighbors for aperitifs, which around here means sweet muscat and enough food to make dinner impossible. After a delightful couple of hours I went out to photograph the Christmas lights and was almost run down by Richard and Sarah and family on their way to the Grand Rifle, another even bigger bingo fest. This town is getting to be the Las Vegas of the Roussillon. Walking down to the Centre Loisirs, I ran into Vartak who was heading to a concert in Planèzes and invited me along. Sounded good, but I was on assignment in Maury and couldn’t miss the Rifle.

Maury-5397 — Le Grand Rifle ©2011 Ron Scherl

This was a very big bingo event, drawing at least 300 of the town’s 900 citizens and the prizes went up a notch including some very good local wines and fois gras. This was serious business. After numerous bisous, I bought a card making sure it had number 23 on it and found a seat at the expat table. Lady Luck never dropped by.

Maury-5415 — Gabriel and Michel ©2011Ron Scherl

This morning wrapped up the week with the annual Marché de Noel, a gathering of producers of wine, honey, chocolates and more, along with artisans and sellers of jewelry, DVD’s, clothing, knick knacks and gifts. The Mayor dropped by to shake hands, give a few bisous and spread the seasonal cheer. He manages to be open, friendly and dignified and people are happy to see him. For the kids there was an inflatable castle, face painting and an appearance by Père Noel, everything needed to inspire the magic of Christmas.

A bientôt,

Your faithful, exhausted correspondent