home(t)raveling: 12 months are 52 weeks are 365 days are 8760 insane hours!

#1 planet Earth, as seen from "our" little village, on an average summer night.

It took us a whole year to get here, from there: from this crazy (but not un-wellthoughtof) decision to commit to those lovely old stones wrapped in ivy and call them home. One hell of a long, intense, dirty, sweaty, dusty, draining yet overall extremely rewarding and enjoyable year. Mostly a privilege, a gift, a life-treat, a dream come true. But also, although very sporadically, a stamina sucker, an absolute nightmare, a gumption trap: euphemistically speaking, an absolute pain in the a--!

Who would have said just two years ago, running away from Johnny Hallyday* so hard we frenetically got on successive buses, trains and ferries until we eventually hit some Japanese shore? Not us, that's for sure.

Who would have said exactly four years ago, cruising like there were no tomorrows through seemingly endless hemp-and-poppy fields (forever) onboard the TRANSITion? Believe it or not, not us!

But, hey, it's been a wild and beautiful ride. And there's a clear trend that it's only getting better all the time, a little better all the time (not, this one! or you sing it yourselves...). Now let's face it: the summer solstice and this first lap around the home(t)ralendar caught us a bit out of schedule: we "failed to meet the deadline" - as we freelancers hate to hear (or admit) - but we got some shit done! Just have a look below if you need to refresh your memory... And of course, we keep on working harder, better, faster, stronger (yeah!). Because, you know: these two bedrooms and bathroom aren't going to build themselves, are they? Right. And at the same time, it's not a race and it's not about getting anywhere. It was indeed this blog's opening mantra, almost five years ago: "Everyday is a journey and the journey itself is home". Remember (to let it under your skin)? Like everything else, it's about doing it with love.

BEFORE: ladies and gentlemen, please be welcome! come in and take the 'day 1' tour: kitchen, wallpapers, entrance corridor and living-room!

DURING: ladies and gentlemen, put your protective clothing on and get your armpits wet! we'll get to the bones, put some fresh flesh and skin.

AFTER: ladies and gentlemen, Wallis & Futuna are proud to introduce the ground floor, aka the hemp-and-lime salon, aka, the living space.

So, yes: one whole year working, enjoying, suffering and - you know - learning in the making. Even though you have no clue what you're doing. Even though it looks like you're lost. Wisdom passes through you just as water passes through some limestone crack. And eventually, just like calcite crystallizes at the tip of a stalactite, understanding drips and forms new shapes at the tip of your understanding of the world surrounding you. You can't actually resist this slow process of accretion. It is happening, every minute of every day. Even in the darkest cave, with nobody to witness it. You live, you learn. Amazing Alanis Morrissette who said it clear back then in the mid-eighties (and nobobdy seemed to realize). This past friday, for instance, over some random small talk with a perfect stranger at the bakery, we learnt that it was indispensable to specifically waterproof our bathroom walls. The conversation went something like this, transcribed in the spirit of Benjamin Hoff:

the waterproofed shower corner, sink area and floor junctions.

- What? -erproofing? But it's all green 'waterproof' plasterboard we used, we said in sheer worry.
- Green only means it's more expensive, heavier and resists a bit more than regular. Still is paper and plaster. Still dissolves and rots with moist, the random stranger replied.
- But we're tiling with stoneware tiles and waterproof grouting, we tried.
- Tiles and grouting are intrinsically porous. Deal with it, he sentenced.
- But we were told..., we cried.
- Grow up, kids. Stop believing stuff, he yelled.
- B-b-but..., we tuttered.
- Nope, he cut.

At that point, Piglet fainted and Pooh said:
- Oh, I see. We'll have two croissants and one baguette, please, Ma'am.

www (Wu-Wei Wisdom) conclusion: "Drama and paradigm shifts are not worth spoiling one's breakfast."

- The end -

 ____

So later that morning, we went to our favourite PointP dealer and asked for the bathroom waterproofing "purple kit". "Purple kit, pu-urple kit", a dude sang in the back. A bunch of construction workers nodded in approbation: you guys know whatchadoin', they silently said closing their eyes slowly and repeatedly, in cat-like motions. Everybody seemed to know exactly what this was all about, what the waterproofing purple kit was and what it was for - but us. That's what happens when you hang around building supplies stores by mid-morning. We bought the stuff, came back home and opened the purple kit. There was evening and there was morning. And on the second day, [we] read the SPC and [we] saw that it was good. We followed the instructions with a brush and soon after that, we had a waterproofed Arch, ready for a purple rain-flood. It (un)fortunately never came. But [we] saw that was good too, indeed, because our saviour and friend S. showed up the day after that to give us a hand with the tiling. Here's how it went until now (needless to say the walls will be tiled or painted depending on their exposure to water**):

the waterprrof-sealed shower corner ; the very-multi-skilled S. at work ; the floor half-tiled and... the floor tout à fait tiled!

In June, just on time to close this opening year, we also got contacted (again) by Monsieur the Maire and his crew. They had this crazy project to expropriate part of the garden in order to build a new car park on it. Apparently (according to them), it was very much needed, as the neighbours regularly passed out, suffered severe cramps or acute dehydration upon walking from their respective car to the door of their respective house. "This village needs an extra car park just as the sow needs the boar", Monsieur the Maire said. And the choir of angels his deputies to sing a cold and a broken Halleluiah. So, we did our best, it wasn't much. We negociated and resisted. We couldn't feel so we tried to touch. And all these things. We ended up with a broken throne, a new hair cut and a fifty-fifty deal: they'd only take a smaller sample of the garden, they'd pay a very symbolic amount of money for it, they'd build a decent 6-spot car park where a beautiful hazelnut tree used to spread its branches and hazelnuts. And around the 15th:

the (roaring) noise and the (cold steel) fury of progress and civilization digging their truth across our garden, courtesy of the Mairie!

At least it went fast and they did it with a firm hand. Our neighbours' cat supervised the whole operation and after a week, we had a new wall with a fancy fence, a very neat 6-park and a pile of super cool salvaged wall-stones in a corner of the garden - for later. Not so bad in the end. We'll plant more (fruit-) trees than they cut, and edible plants, and botanicals, and a couple of ducks. Screw progress, civilization and the people who refuse to walk 100 meters from their houses to their cars... Anyway. Let's conclude on a positive note: this first anniversary also pretty much fell with the summer solstice, that is to say, with our dear U.'s birthday, who had just left his busy and vibrant Barcelona to visit us for a short climbing retreat in the Ariège. And since any reason/excuse to celebrate is a good one, and we could easily come up with several, we decided to throw a merry, multi-purpose and impromptu petite fête. Hurray!

our luxury brewer G. and his astonishing brew-duction ; the subtle and moving sounds of Duo Hïka, for their unofficial debut at the hangar...

A bunch of friends came with yummy food on the evening of the 23rd; we all gathered around the compulsory Saint-Jean bonfire; U. turned older doing what he enjoys most: meeting new people and chatting over a drink; Wallis baked some boníssimes coques catalanes with peppers, garlic and anchoves; J.-M. took the art of BBQ-ing one step further; Mr. G., our very finest brewer, brought a comprehensive sample of the very finest BdQ beers; and Mr. S., our very finest tiling coach (see above), who happens to be an exquisite musician, made us the pleasure and honor to come present a few songs of his new project together with amazing singer Karolina: "Duo Hïka, songs of love, loss and longing". Impossible to dream of a lovelier, nicer, more beautiful conclusion and celebration for this first home(t)raveling year! The live footages we shot are way too shaky (blame it on the genuine emotion and intense goosebumps all over our bodies), so we share this one song with you here. Visit their website, fall in love with them, check their next gigs (in both the Toulouse/Ariège area and Barcelona) and go hear them live!

Alright. We just have enough room left to give a huge and heartfelt "thank you!" to all the friends who came and helped, who gave energy, gave ideas, gave inspiration and gave a hand. Both that night and any other time during this whole intense year, for an hour or for two weeks (i sí, bitxo, aixo ès per tu: gràcies, gràcies i gràcies! T'estimem mil!). Thanks for your time, love and advice, for sharing your skills, craft, knowledge and/or tools. Thanks to you all for your support and for this beautiful Saint-Jean's eve. With our batteries reloaded, we're ready for another year, for a brand new season of home(t)raveling, for a housefull of adventures and surprises. And this is thanks to you all, folks!

We'll be back soon.

with a lot more
and we love you,

F & W

____________________________

* About Johnny Hallyday (may he R.I.P) in Pamiers: on July, 14th, 2016, the oldest and most famous French song-writer,composer, performer, Harley Davidson rider and rock-and-roller ever, came and gave a live show for the French national bank holiday at the local stadium in Pamiers, Ariège - causing us to run away as far as we possibly could... and look where it took us!

#2 an average summer night, as seen from planet Earth nearby "our" little village.

** to be absolutely honest about the purple waterproof sealing coat: there's quite a bunch of friends, family and acquaintances who visited the would-be-bathroom before the walls got tiled or painted. And a few of them (only the nicest) put a horror face for a second before making up too big a smile and saying too loud something like "Ooooh! That is indeed a nice colour you picked for the bathroom!", "It suits the tiles real well, you guys do have an eye for home design!" or "Waow! It's... really... different. Would have picked the exact same colour myself". After an awkward silence we had the power to make excruciatingly long, we could give 'em some relief  saying "Cut the crap, it's okay, it's getting covered tomorrow"

of Gneiss and Men

(an average day out climbing with friends)

just a sample of the wild and famous bunch known as ACS: Ariege Climbing Scene!

Futuna loves a good pun every now and then - don't be too hard on him, for he was really happy (and proud) with this title and he could easily be hurt. Anyway, since we bought this big nice ruin, we ain't been doing much more than working on it. So, any activity that takes place OUT OF the house and does NOT involve gloves, tools, lime and wood beams is - indeed - an adventure and a big thing! Moreover, if it happens to be our ONE AND ONLY climbing day of the whole year 2018 (so far... summertime is coming, optimism is still allowed!), we cannot NOT make a short post about it. There we go:

The weather forecast was excellent, quite a nice team had confirmed attendance on the FB group's weekend thread and a suitable crag had been selected: not too far away, a short, flat approach walk, some shade and enough space for everyone to climb, belay, chill, eat or even nap, a decent number of gentle, nice and very enjoyable routes on a beautifully sculpted Gneiss and in the perfect grades' range for easy, social climbing (5-ish to 6b, with a couple of 7's for the braves). The name of this seemingly perfect crag? Junac, in the gorgeous valley of the Vicdessos river, overlooked by the 3.000m peaks of the Ariège - Montcalm, Pique d'Estats and Pic Verdaguer. Would you be looking for a crag that meets your requirements and matches your climbing desire, we can only recommend that you visit this amazing website from the Club Alpin Français des Montagnards Ariègeois (the French mountaineering association's local bureau), which comprehensively lists ALL local crags, for both sports' beasts and multipitch lovers (and some stuff for boulderers, too). But it's been enough talking already: let's climb!

so, featuring in a random order so as to respect everybody's right to keep living anonymously in the Ariège: a representative sample of the ACS: Sam, Graham, Tom, Eila, Steve, Ben, Alfredo, Chris, Amelia and Billy the goat!

While Wallis mostly seized these magical moments of the day, we all climbed and chilled until mid-evening. Knowing you don't have to walk long to get back to the cars, you can make the day last a bit more... And the perspective of a late evening with beers and friends only makes it more enjoyable! Hopefully, we'll get more chances to go out and play over the next months. Hopefully we're lucky enough that our friends kidnap us from the house renovation project!
Anyway, if you ever get to climb in the Ariège, you can always consider buying some of the many climbing guidebooks, a.k.a. "Topos" published and republished over the years... It's nice and at least part of the money goes back where it belongs: in the piggybanks of the routesetters and cragkeepers, so they can keep doing what they love and what we enjoy so much: nice, safe and maintained outdoor climbing routes!
But would you have any doubt, question or just need a last minute beta or info on a route or crag, make sure you have some internet and go visit cafma.free.fr: you're pretty sure to find up-to-date, accurate and clear information, often first-hand from the local equippers! Here's the Junac's topo, just as you can find it for free on their website.

That's all for today. Take care, stay safe and you know the rule:
Work less, climb more and enjoy the summertime (in the Pyrenees)!

the topo, as issued, updated and displayed for free on the CAFMA's website!

home(t)raveling: mooooonth 4!

And there was evening and there was morning, one day. It was month four and Wallis and Futuna saw it was good. It felt good indeed, although they (that is us, actually) were so freakin' exhausted they could hardly blink. So they kept working harder, better, fast..., regardless of the lightness of day that had become separate from the darkness of night.

the first layer of hempcrete getting dry (finish will come before xmas, hopefully)

The genesis: no matter how or when, they just kept working plain hard, sweating their ashes off and obviously NOT taking any eighth day off to rest, nor to even sit on a cloud and proudly contemplate the job done. "This ark of ours won't build itself, will it?" said Wallis. "Sure won't!" said Futuna. And there was a silence in heaven for about half an hour, most probably because they'd gone for a coffee break by the hangar... With the hempcrete (our über-cool, chic and natural hemp and lime plaster) slowly getting dry in the living-room (a.k.a. the Noah's ark, a.k.a. the project's phase I base camp), we were now free to set and build all the false-ceilings and to work on the future kitchen's technical wall. "Technical" might sound like a big deal, but that's basically where the stove, oven, sink, fridge and stuff will go, with all power and water running behind. So we first put up those metal frames to receive the plasterboards, then insulated the whole thing with rockwool before passing the wires and pipes, including the fresh air-in for the wood stove and greasy air-out for the kitchen fan. Finally, we screwed these sexy grey (plain), green (waterproof) and pink (allegedly fireproof but it'd later appear they were not) plasterboards all over the place. At these points, it looked like that,                   then like that,                                  then like that:

the kitchen wall before (left, w. the stones and railings), before (center, w. the rockwool, power and pipes) and before (right, w. the "placo").

The reality check: to be fair, almost two weeks of actual, real-time passed between these first and third pictures. For Futuna and Wallis are human beings, they need to eat, sleep, go to the toilet and eventually work for a living in between building stuff and renovating this house of theirs. Not all of that time was invested in eating, sleeping and going to the toilet, though. Some time was dedicated to the one I love the first floor's false ceilings, as the pictures below unambiguously suggest. We/they (this schyzophrenic trick of third-erpson writing is increasingly bothering, should consider getting rid of it...) were extremely lucky that our/their (again!) skilled, friendly and beloved mason, Mr. K, was kind enough to lend his plasterboard lifting trolley, laser level, plasterboard saw and plane, plus a handful more of indispensable tools... Thank you so much again, Mr. K! (this one is a special interlude for the benefit of Mr. K...)

the magic mystery plasterboard lifting cart and the fruit of its work on the 1st floor: false ceilings in the future bathroom and the two bedrooms.

The caterpilar effect: our initial plans* for the first phase of the LaMeunière project (= the renovation of the old house into a functional 90 square meters home) also included that we put up a small bathroom on the first floor, just on top of the (old and decrepit rustic) existing one. And as the soon-to-be-revealed-to-the-world caterpilar theory explains, even the mildest fart of a caterpillar into its cocoon here and now - long before it even gets wings - is likely to unleash long-lasting consequences of unprecedented magnitude in another corner of our round planet... True story. Well, the same happens with home(t)raveling; long story made short, the embodiement of the caterpilar effect: so as to put up a bathroom on the first floor, we first needed to replace the abestos-containing flooring tiles. This caused us to cut off and throw away the wooden slats the abestos tiles were stuck to. We then were ready to remove the old toilet - which was the one and only toilet around! Grin.

the  future toilet, concrete floor removed , in the process of leveling the first tiles. 

And you'll see: we're not angels. We need to go there every now and then. So BEFORE taking the toilet away, we needed to set up a place to put it back in more or less no time at all and ideally in the same gesture. It took us weeks to find a suitable place, but also to do a few round trips to L., home of our dear C., L. and the Loulouttes, to load the 2c15 with a huge pile of old vintage tomettes (terracotta tiles) they wanted out of the girls' room and we thought we could give a second life to. This step included taking them down a ladder to the street, taking out and scratching out all the lime and sand, driving them back home, thoroughly cleaning them and soaking them in white vinegar overnight before preparing the floor to put them back into place on a bed of sand, adding lime and water in the right proportions, then finally placing them levelled and even, jointing them with "lime milk" and waiting for them to get dry. Since we wanted our "buanderie" (a.k.a. utility room) to be cleaner and neater on the long run (we'd like to have an old recycled sink there, as well as the washing-machine plus shelves to store stuff), it made a lot of sense to progressively get rid of the (elevated) concrete flooring and make this actual plumbing spine of the house tidier and drier... For all these reasons, and more romantic ones too, we loved the idea of re-using C. & L.'s tomettes for this area. At the same time, the amount of work required to get the whole floor done at once was simply not compatible with our schedules and with the coming winter cold and bad weather: too much to do in too little time! So, we focused on the incompressible 4 square meters that'd receive the toilet and electric water heater, then left the rest waiting for (*what?*) until (*when?*). *Who knows?* Not me. We never lost control etc. Another absolute classic!

the first pieces in position ; more tiles getting dry , old pipes and water heater still in place ; a little jump in time : toilet and electric heater on.

Another brick (less) in the wall : the last two weeks to complete this fourth month were already quite busy, we were unsure we'd make it to the fatidic date of october 31st AND the imminent change due to the daylight saving time promised to hit severely on our already challenged, over-clocked pituitary glands. That's when we got two news: a bad one and a good one (even though master Oogway knows and teaches there's no such thing as 'good' or 'bad' news). The bad one was the brick wall between the two bedroms upstairs was no longer self-sustaining and should be removed and replaced by a whole new structure. Being 5cm thin and disconnected from the former false ceiling, there was nothing left to garantuee it wouldn't fall on us anyday. The good news was our friend S., a.k.a. Bustins Powers, a.k.a. Glutis D'orus, planned to visit us for the weekend: two extra arms and a super-fit victim to help us get through the unexpected wall incident (and its unscheduled, additional workload). Plus, she's a living promise of tons of fun!

1- we don't need no education ; 2- we don't need no thought control ; 3- no dark sarcasm in the classroom
4- teachers leave the kids alone ; 5- on and on you're just an- ; 6- -other brick in the wall.

With Glutins powers, we worked hard, very hard and even harder than you'd believe. She's tough. Oh yes, she sure is. She cyclotours restlessly, hiked the transpyrenean trail from sea to ocean without fixed ropes nor supplemental oxygen, she's fluent in at least 6 languages (mandarin included) and she kicks asses, all which - borrowing to Guy Ritchie - make her harder than a coffin nail! We got rid of the wall in about a moment, drove all the wreckage and rubble to the déchetterie, prepared the ground floor's ceiling for the jointer who was to come the next day (filling the wall-to-ceiling and board-to-board junctions with adhesive plaster), finished the first floor's ceiling in half an evening and, of course, ate a lot while watching a few (average-to-bad) movies all covered in blankets and down sleeping bags.

drilling a hole on the plaste-e-rboard** ; the [wall] is gone and mamma says it makes one nice big room without it ;
meanwhile, downstairs the jointer has done his job and left his footprint: tiz getting neat in here!

Well, that's pretty much it, but it's not bad at all for somebody who initially came to take a weekend off and was unaware of our plans for her! Ha ha ha! Next thing we know, there was evening and there was morning, the next day. We drove her back to the train station smiling and seemingly happy, enthusiastic about future visits in spring and summer, to... wait for it... work in the garden, in the barn and even on the roof! -we didn't say it, she did!- Thank you for your help and support, Glutins Powers! Take great care and come back to us soon: we still have a good load of (a) unhealthy food in the pantry and (b) crappy movies on the hard drive and it's more fun to (a) eat, (b) mock and delete them with you! [heart][heart][heart]

And that'll be it for now:
more in 2 weeks!
Love to all,

F & W

____________________________

* whose patient, wise, caring and tailored designs we owe to our beloved Catalonian architect friends M. & A.

** it's been quite a lot of contributions from the Beatles to these columns' soundtrack, so we unilateraly decided to skip this one. If you really wanted/needed to hear it rightnow anyway (and even though it might compromise the whole timing to reading this post), you can still click here at your own risks ; the authors decline all liability in case of surprise and/or disappointment...