Jour 18 - Food, Family, and the French Alps

Inner Pilot
Jul 17, 2011
3 min read

Updated: Dec 11, 2024

Mots du jour: toutes (all), pasteque (watermelon), petanque (French national game)

Vineyard near the French Alps

Today, Dalia surprised me with a drive to the French Alps to see her home town of Barcelonnette (from when she was 3 to 17 years old) and to have a special meal with her mother Messaouda and step-father Jean-Pierre in Pra-Loup. I was in heaven, surrounded by majestic mountains, sloping green fields (like in the movie “Sound of Music”), brilliant blue sky, bright colorful flowers, silent gliders catching thermals from a nearby slope, excellent foods, and the best company.

Algerian Bread, Cheeses, Brochette de la Viande

Messaouda’s from the Kabylia Mountains of Algeria and prepared two traditional items from that region. One was an Algerian flat bread called Aghroum (Galette in French), and the other was an Algerian soup called Shorba. They were incredible. I had three full bowls of Shorba and never stopped snacking on the Aghroum. There was also brochette de la viande (a spicy ground beef sausage) and a North African sausage called Merjez. I ate a lot of that too. Oh, then there were three kinds of cheeses, wine, delicious salad, and more.

I would have offered to clear the table when we were done, but I don’t have a good track record after the "Pastis Incident" (Jour 14).

Messaouda Prepares Aghoum and Shorba

Messaouda doesn’t speak English and Jean-Pierre doesn’t speak English fluently. Of course, I’m at the 3 year-old level of French. So we had a language barrier. When Dalia wasn’t around, Jean-Pierre and I would converse the best we could with English and French. I’d often break-out “Google Translate” (an application on my iPhone which provides spoken and written translations) to supplement communicating with Jean-Pierre and to share thoughts with Messaouda. The whole atmosphere of translating and guessing what the other wanted to say was fun, almost like a game. Jean-Pierre offered me a glass of Pastis, and as I took my first glass I exclaimed, ‘see, we speak the same language after all – sante’ (cheers)’. Jean-Pierre likes humor, so that one went over well.

Messaouda Picking Leaves for Tea

I told Dalia I could tell she was well cared for as a child. After translation, Messaouda ask why I thought this. ‘Because of how well you take care of everyone here’, I replied. I think Messaouda’s one of the kindest and most caring people you’ll meet in this world. Jean Pierre’s right up there too.

Dalia in Pra-Loup

Pra-Loup is at the 1,600 meter level of a 2,900 meter mountain. The scenery and temperatures reminded me of an Alaskan summer. It’s a ski resort town, and Dalia took me on a walk, pointing out places where she’d spent time as a child. People don’t come to this area like they used too, and the real-estate prices were low, I thought.

Jean-Pierre spent about an hour teaching me how to pronounce the French alphabet. I took lots of notes. It’s that different from the English alphabet. I'll be using them as a training aid in the future. He also wrote a book and built the house they live in now.

I learned the French have different accents to each other, depending on which region they come from. Apparently, it’s pretty dramatic at times.