May Memoir: Ca va? Stories from Rural Life in Southern France, Chapter 20: Jotul

Welcome to May MEMOIR!

Day 21

For the entire month of May, I'll be sharing part of each chapter from my memoir, Ca va?  Stories from Rural Life in Southern France.

After all our struggles with ‘Chantal’, the wood heater that did not work, we decided it was time to buy a new heater, or poele.  Christophe wanted the Cadillac of heaters: a Jotul.  It’s a Norwegian brand that is known for high quality, but we also had to scrimp and save for months to go top of the line.  And what is high quality made of?  Cast iron; very, very, heavy, cast iron.  We forgot about that and the hydraulic lift the sales person used to get it into our truck should have been a clue, but did we pay attention?  No……we thought we could lift it ourselves.

Chapter 20: Jotul

After the salesperson loaded the poele into the truck, we carefully made our way back home.  Christophe drove his truck slowly, and we could feel the motor strain as we climbed the road back to Bainat.  Pulling up the house, we could barely contain our excitement.

Christophe jumps out, “Let’s get this beauty in the house”.

Opening the truck doors, we look inside.  The crate is larger than my arm span and there are no handles to lift it. 

“Do you think you can lift it from the bottom?”  Christophe asks.

“I think so”, I respond.

            “Okay, but remember, you need to be careful.  The poele is crated, but cast iron can be fragile.  You don’t want to drop the crate because it can break, and the guarantee won’t cover that.  If it breaks, we are out of luck.”

             “Alright”, I say trying not to get overwhelmed at the heavy task in front of us.

            “This is not like tossing a log down a hill”, Christophe reiterates.  “You need to be extremely careful.”

With those words of warning ringing in my ear, Christophe grabs one end of the crate and instructs me to do the same.  He then enthusiastically cries, “One, two, three…lift!”

Nothing happens.

“Lynn, you got to lift your end” he tells me.

“I’m trying.”

“Okay, let’s try it again.  One, two, three… lift!”  I can hear him straining as he tries to lift the poele, but it still doesn’t move.

 “What’s the matter?  Why aren’t you lifting?”  He asks me.

“Christophe, I’m trying, it’s too heavy.”  Panic is starting to set in.  We’ve come this far and now all that we’ve worked for is just sitting in the back of his truck.  I’m worried it is going to stay there or worse; we’ll drop it accidentally getting it out.

Christophe reassures me, “I’m sure if we remove the crate it will be easier to lift.  This way, we can have something to grab onto.” 

He removes the wood crate so all that is left is the heater itself.  We each find a handle to hold onto and try to lift it again.  It still does not budge.

 “Why can’t you lift it?  I’m lifting my half,” Christophe says, getting frustrated.

“Because it weighs over 300 pounds and you’re not helping any with telling me how easily we can break it!”  I explode, “Not everyone is as strong as you; I can’t lift it!”