Rewarding trip off the beaten track

CHERIE SIVIGNON

WE'RE HERE: One of the signs indicating Sivignon.

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OPINION: There's something cool about seeing your name in print, writes Cherie Sivignon in this week's L'expat.

Okay, as a journalist of 19-odd years I'm used to seeing my name at the top of articles but I'd never before seen it proclaiming the entrance to a town.

That all changed this month when my husband Franck (giver of my now-famous married name), my daughter Ella, 1, and I swerved (way) off the main road between Chalon-sur-Saone and Macon in Burgundy to check out the rustic delights bestowing the sweet village of Sivignon.

Aww. It was cute, nestled against a hill amid the green undulating pastures of rural Bourgogne. Bathed in summer sunshine, under a clear blue sky, Sivignon was as gorgeous as any French village I've seen. It had old stone houses ablaze with bright pots of geraniums, a delightful little school and a mairie (council office). There was even a salle de fete (public hall).

However, there was no cafe and no bakery. The poor residents of Sivignon have to travel 10 minutes by car to buy a coffee from a cafe and pick up their freshly baked bread. Quelle horreur!

On arrival at Sivignon, Franck and I drove along the village's streets to get our bearings and look for the non-existent cafe. We spotted and were spotted by an old guy working in a large vegetable garden. With his rumpled beret skew-whiff atop his head, he looked like any one of the thousands of retired men in France, pottering around in their vege patch, enjoying the fine weather.

After we spent five minutes circumnavigating Sivignon, Franck, Ella and I headed back to park at a recycling depot we'd seen just before the entrance to town. We were preparing to walk to the village sign to take a picture when the old guy from the vege patch pulled up and jumped out to say Bonjour.

We exchanged pleasantries for 10 minutes, chatting about the weather, the fruit and vegetables growing well in the district and where we came from. He could tell by our licence plate that we lived outside the Saone-et-Loire department that counted Sivignon among its own. We told him we came from the alpine department of Haute-Savoie and he laughingly asked us if we were still under snow. The old gardener in the beret seemed in no hurry to get back to his veggies.

He pointed out the local landmarks, including a statue of the Virgin Mary overlooking the valley. The weather was about to turn, our guide said. In good conditions, the statue appeared blue, reflecting the sky but when conditions were due to change, the colour of the statue appeared different.

We didn't stay in Sivignon long enough to see if his statue theory was correct; we had to collect our two sons from their grandfather's near Macon. But I'd like to think the old guy in the beret was right and that the Virgin Mary will long continue to forewarn the residents of Sivignon about inclement weather.

» Cherie Sivignon is a former Southland Times journalist who has moved to France with her French-born husband and their family.

- © Fairfax NZ News

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