Le pays de cocagne (the land of plenty) is what people used to call France's southeast region where I live , praising its once-famous pastel production.

So having said goodbye to Tokyo's infernal crowds, I hoped that I would be able to find at least some of what I was looking for in such a place.

There would be no more packed trains, no more pollution, no more expensive city taxes to pay; just a perfectly healthy life watering tomatoes and eggplants under the sunny skies, having an afternoon siesta in the shade of a tree, etc.

In short, I would be in a land free of the world's cares, that is, in my wildest dreams.

But besides the joys of a simple life, I'm gradually discovering some of the realities of my would-be dream country life.

Born and having spent my about 30 years exclusively in the city, the feeling of isolation that jangles my nerves, for instance, is something I'd never experienced before.

Auterive is a deathly quiet place, especially in wintertime. The streets are deserted. In the center of the village, distractions are browsing through the same magazines as the week before at the tiny bookshop or joining the retirees and jobless men for a drink at a dreary cafe.

Events happening outside sometimes seem like dreams -- left out by the rest of the world, alas, I'm afraid I shall forget even my own name soon!

I've even taken to counting passing trucks and cars that I can hear in the distance as evidence that the world is still turning -- somewhere.

The arrival of guests at our little pension is more than a blessing because it wakes us from this state of dormancy. They come mostly from other parts of France but also from Germany and Britain. Our rooms are 46 euros per night, and if they wish, they can opt for a full meal (a starter, a main dish, a dessert or a mixed plate of local cheeses and a carafe of table wine) for 16 euros. For us, it's little reward for lots of work.

Le canard (duck) is often our main dish, because we live in a dreamland for duck and goose fanciers, although it is probably a nightmare for the birds.

Raised at nearby farms, healthy, well-fed ducks are transformed into excellent local dishes such as magret de canard aux figues (duck breast steaks with figs), confit de canard (duck legs cooked in their own fat) and canard a l'orange (roast duck with orange sauce).

For gourmand travelers, we prepare the region's famous cassoulet (a very rich stew made of white beans, confit de canard, bacon, sausage and some vegetables).

There are two types of foie gras (literarily fat liver): foie gras de canard (duck) and foie gras d'oie (goose). They taste slightly different, but they are made the same way: force-feed the birds with corn to get a liver 10 times fatter than normal.

Some animal rights groups claim that this is cruel, but for most French people, along with truffles and oysters, foie gras is one of their favorite treats on a festive occasion. The simplest and best way to eat it is on a toasted slice of pain de campagne, perhaps with a few grains of salt and a glass of Sauternes.

Besides being tasty, duck meat is said to be healthy. According to my companion, thanks to the duck fat they eat, people are fitter and live longer in this region than anywhere else in France.

My immediate worry is that I shall come to look like a fatty duck myself soon because in busy seasons I end up eating it almost every day with our guests. And it's so good!

It seems that nowhere's perfect, after all.

I'd welcome any comments or opinions, in Japanese or English, about my column. You can write or fax me at The Weekly, or e-mail me at jtweekly@japantimes.co.jp

The Japan Times Weekly: May 29, 2004
(C) All rights reserved