More on my favourite Mamie

The mamies in Argelès are the old women, grandmothers, dressed in aprons and what my grandmother would have called house dresses. They sit on chairs on the street or many of the benches around the villages and share stories. Sometimes they snap beans as they talk.

They are always willing to chat with me, although sometimes with the thick Catalan accent I've trouble following. One old woman, whose limp is now so bad she only goes out when she can lean on her daughter-in-law, told me the history of each house on my street. She always calls "cou-cou" when she sees me. Her smile lights up the area.

But my favourite mamie is the woman sitting on her stoop on the far right of this photo. You can barely make her out. I can often find her there, sometimes knitting beautiful patterns.  Her house is decorated with plastic flowers. 

She usually wears socks, sandals, a house dress, a sweater. Her fizzy-gray hair is pulled back and fastened with an elastic. She could use dentures. I can't help wondering what she would look like with a makeover with the wonderful bone structure in her face. I'll never know.

Unlike many of the mamies, she meets friends for coffee at La Noisette. It was there when she saw Lydia and writing that she confessed she writes too and how she uses cards and pictures to trigger her writing.

A couple of days ago I found her outside of town where the community gardens are located. I joked she was lost.

No, she told me. She was on the way to her garden. I told her I was jealous and she told me I could help her anytime and I just might if the scheduling works out. There's nothing like working in the dirt to bring forth fresh veggies.

Last night Rick and I were upstairs at our landlady's to share an apéro with another Danish friend who is only in Argelès periodically. He travels all over the world making documentaries for Danish television. Out the window and over his shoulder I was able to see the full moon.

Since Rick was not in a position to see the moon when we went downstairs, I asked if he wanted to go on a full moon search.

The buildings blocked our view. We walked toward the church and sitting in the plaza near the fountain was the mamie saying her rosary.

We greeted each other.

"Nous cherchons la lune."



She immediately agreed that it was beautiful that night and said that was why she was there. She then told me how she'd been able to photograph it the night before. She explained the difficulty in getting it right, which I knew from my photographing friends describing the challenges. 


I wished I asked her about her camera.


Another time.