Christmas Cotignac Style

Christmas has arrived in Cotignac. There are lights, decorations, and preparations for reveillon (the grand feast on Christmas Eve). Cotignac is like small towns everywhere – the spirit is there but the execution is a little – uneven. But it just adds to the charm.

Decorations for Noel have been going up all around town. The Spar has tinsel strung a bit haphazardly. The Café de Cours decorated their palm tree with lights. The honey store has gold bows that are slightly askew. But Blue Cl’Hair – a coiffure – went all out with a tree and mistletoe outside their shop. Even the Tuesday market got into the mood. Mike was delighted to find a, shall we say, svelte Mrs. Santa gracing one of the market stalls. I, on the other hand, had to live with a pudgy, white-whiskered Santa outside the Gourmet Shop.

The village is festive with lights hanging from the trees along the main street. Not to be outdone, there are also decorative lights along the tiny street leading up to the Hotel de Ville (city hall). The village seems to have a little less organizational rigor now than during the summer. The big ceremony to turn on the lights didn’t happen. Mike and I went into town for the Fete des Lumieres on the evening it was supposed to happen (even though the tourist office had no information) to discover….nothing. It seems that the date was changed to December 26. Supposedly there will be fireworks (feu d’artifice) along the rocks behind the city. We’ll let you know!

It’s been fun to drive through the neighboring villages to see their lights. I wish I owned the concession that sold lights to all these little towns. Each village has its own design, and we’re not talking simple lights strung across the streets. These are designs in a wide array of colors – shooting stars, snowflakes, festive greetings, and more. Carces is the most entertaining. It looks like they bought one of each design that was in the catalog. Then they hung them one after the other. No pattern; no theme; just lights. It’s refreshing in an unorganized way. There is a saxophone with colored notes jauntily dancing across the street, stars, bells, snowflakes, greetings, and plain ole, blinking, white lights. Lorgues, on the other hand, has color coordinated blue and white lights. White snowflakes float above banners of blue, tastefully strung along the main streets in varying patterns.

Cotignac is somewhere in the middle. The lights at the village entrance festively announce that Cotignac is a city of character, and along the main street we are greeted with a cheerful “Joyeux Noel.” The tall plane trees serve as the backdrop for sparkling blue lights that glow over mostly empty shops – empty, except for the Modern Bar. The Modern Bar may not be fancy but it must be the biggest money maker in town – after the Spar.

Mike and I have done our best to keep up with the holiday spirit. We made an excursion to Brignoles to get a Christmas tree. We took Dan’s suggestion that we buy a small Cyprus that could be planted after the holidays. Perfect. Off we went to Gamm Vert (like the garden section of Home Depot). They had the perfect little tree – about three feet high, a festive green color, and perfectly shaped. They also had a room full of cut Christmas trees for sale that were not so fortunate. The whole experience was a moment to remember. First, there was Santa Baby playing on the loud speakers as we walked in the store. It takes a moment to realize that you’re in a store in France and hearing Santa Baby in English. As they say here, “Bizarre!” Then we found these poor, little trees. It was simply not possible to stifle our laughter. Some trees were lopsided; others were missing their top branches; and all were for sale. I’m just sure someone came along to love these poor, misshapen trees! Ours, however, is lovely. In addition to the chrystal, star ornaments that Siena left for us, we spent a grand total of 7 euros on decorations. I was able to resist – just barely – the feather boas that were being sold as tinsel. We settled for little, gold ball trim.

We were on our way out with our big purchases when Mike remarked offhandedly that all we needed now was French Christmas music. Hmmmm. He had a point. I dashed back inside and emerged with a three CD set of French Christmas music. Decorating the tree, with wine in hand and French carols floating in the air, has never been so much fun!

I’d never thought about it before, but Christmas carols are the same and different here. Some of the American standards are everywhere – Bing Crosby’s White Christmas, Sinatra’s Let it Snow. While we hear familiar songs, there are new ones as well, and many of them have great tunes. There’s C’est Noel which, after hearing it once, is permanently stuck in our heads. And it’s not just us. We were at the market on Tuesday and I overheard a delivery man humming the chorus as he unloaded boxes. ‘Tis the season! Then there are songs with familiar tunes but different words, like Mon Beau Sapin, sung to the tune of O Christmas Tree.

We enjoyed the French Christmas music so much that we went to a chorale performance at the church in Cotignac. Even after living here for nine months, we never know what to expect. This time we were surprised to realize that the church is not heated. No….not heated. Not even a little bit. Everyone seemed to know this but us. They arrived with blankets and prepared to sit in the cold for the performance. It actually wasn’t that bad; we simply kept our coast – and gloves – on. There we all sat, bundled up, to listen to a chorus of Christmas music. It was wonderful – simply wonderful. Of course, there were many songs that we weren’t familiar with, but we got to hear the French version of Silent Night (Douce Nuit) sung in six part harmony. They audience had a chance to join in for Angels We Have Heard on High (Les Anges dans nos Compagnes) for which the words were handily provided on our pews. Just was we got to “Glor…or…or…ia” the bells of the church began to chime. What a wonderful sound – our voices singing in French as the bells pealed overhead. The concert ended with everyone singing O Come All Ye Faithful (Peuple Fidele). It was a perfect evening – even in the cold.

Mike and I have enjoyed an interesting mix of U.S. Christmas customs and French Christmas customs. Sometimes we don’t know the difference. For example, a few weeks ago we decided to send Christmas cards to friends and family back home and to those people in Cotignac who have been so gracious and welcoming. As it turns out, the French don’t do Christmas cards. We couldn’t find any to send so we made our own. With my own sketch of the Four Seasons fountain in the Cours, a little manipulation of PowerPoint, and some craft glue from Frank’s hardware store – voila! – we made Christmas cards. Some are still be trying to reach the US, but for the shop keepers in Cotignac, they were delivered in person. How much fun! We took them around on market day so we could give them to our favorite vendors and farmers. It was a drizzly day and the envelopes were a bit mushy by the time we finished. But it was worth every minute of cutting and gluing. All of the receipients found it perplexing and had no idea what this envelope was, what to do with it, or when to open it. I had to explain – each time – that a “carte de Noel” is a tradition in the United States. That seemed to satisfy everyone and then they were thrilled. Within minutes, they had their card posted on the wall of their shop. Inside was a message that Catherine helped me to craft, in French, that thanked them for their friendliness during our visit and told them that our best souvenir would be memories of their hospitality. It was another little step towards closing out our time here and one that was very well received by all.

And what would Christmas be without the food? For the French the big feast is reveillon which is served on Christmas Eve. There has been much excitement as everyone prepared for it. At the big Leclerc store in Brignoles there was an entire aisle, from floor to six feet tall, of chocolates. People circled it with their carts selecting the best box from the towering assortment. And, we found a turkey…..a whole turkey! The meat case at the local butcher shop looks a feather boa curled inside. There are turkeys and capons with their heads neatly tucked to the side; feet curled underneath and tail feathers fanned out behind. Black feathers and tan feathers fill the case. We ordered our capon like everyone else but ours will be for the week after Christmas as we already have our pheasant for reveillon. When we dropped by to pick up the capon we discovered that the butcher shop was newly stocked with tiny little appetizers that they call mise en bouche. They were so cute! We had to have an assortment of them, too. They will be our feast on Christmas day. Check out the tiny duck made from mousse de canard!


We could see different foods around, but we lacked more information, so I talked to my main source – Dominique - who runs the nail salon. She told me about the traditional foods in Provence, as each area of France is different. In Provence reveillon typically includes salmon, oysters, white sausage, langoustine, foie gras, chestnuts and thirteen desserts. Yes – thirteen desserts. You’ve got to love a country with a tradition of thirteen desserts! As it turns out, they are tiny desserts – fruit and nuts, primarily. But still. Oh – and buche de Noel is popular, too. These are pastries that look like little logs. Some are made from cake, others from ice cream. Yum. Dominique asked what we were having so I recited our menu: pheasant (ordered specially from the local butcher), black rice (from the Camarque), and spinach. She looked at me quizzically and said, “And, what else?” I explained that it was only me and Mike, but she wanted to know about the starters. Foie gras? Of course. Bien sur! What would Christmas be without it? Dominique seemed satisfied that we would have an acceptable meal.

In order to have a traditional French reveillon, we had to make a trip to the bakery this morning (Christmas Eve) - along with everyone else in town. After waiting in line, I couldn't resist the stunning buche de Noel logs so we bought a small one for Christmas day. We left the bakery loaded down - like everyone else- with boxes and bags of our goodies. We also needed some last minute items so we headed to the Spar only to discover Papa Noel greeting all the shoppers and handing out candy, fruit and cakes in front of the Spar. I'm not sure who enjoyed having their photo taken more - me or him. Papa Noel was actually the man who runs the boule association. We saw him every Friday night during the summer at their mussels and fries event as he presided over the festivities. He speaks a few words of English so as I wished him a "Bon Noel" he quickly replied with "Merry Christmas!" What a lovely place this is.

Thanks to Michael, we had an exceptional meal! He outdid himself with the pheasant and everything else. He had to "lard" the pheasant meaning baking it with pieces of fat on the exposed edges to retain the moisture. It turned out perfectly. I can hardly wait for leftovers tomorrow! And then there were the thirteen desserts. Here’s the line up: dried apricots, blonde raisins, brown raisins, dried figs, dates, walnuts (shelled myself), pine nuts, apple, pear, Clementine, almonds (also shelled myself from our tree), Advent chocolate, and chocolate wafers with nuts and fruit (a traditional treat). What a special evening.

And so, Mike and I settle in after our Christmas reveillon, sitting in front of the wood stove, listening to French Christmas music, me with wine and Mike with sparkling water, as we open the last window of our Advent calendar think about all that we have to be grateful for – here and at home. I have this mental image - a moving postcard - of France running through my head. It’s “taken” from the train as we returned from Strasbourg. There are skeleton trees against dove-grey skies filled with fluffy balls of mistletoe as though they are Christmas ornaments, green pastures with ponies blurry from their winter coats, misty hills and sleepy vineyards waiting for spring, empty lanes connecting steepled villages, and rotund sheep scampering on spindly legs. That postcard image will stay with me for Christmases to come regardless of which hearth Mike and I are sitting around.