{"id":20771,"date":"2020-11-15T18:21:48","date_gmt":"2020-11-15T17:21:48","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/siv-sketches.net\/?page_id=20771"},"modified":"2021-12-29T14:14:22","modified_gmt":"2021-12-29T13:14:22","slug":"chapter-5-part-2-a-piece-in-major-and-minor","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/siv-sketches.net\/?page_id=20771","title":{"rendered":"Chapter 5 (Part 2) — A Piece in major and minor: Luxeuil"},"content":{"rendered":"
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‘Our house’ in luxeail-les-Bains, taken with the camera Mother gave me in  1949<\/p><\/div>\n

I am starting my second life \u2013 an ode to my dearest friend Ga\u00ebtane<\/strong><\/p>\n

The father of the family, Monsieur Spach, came to Basel to pick us up in his cabriolet car, and I\u2019ll never forget the honking in every curve on the small road going west to Luxeuil or Thierry\u2019s non-stop chatting. He had to tell his dad about everything that he\u2019d seen and done in Sweden with his stepmother, Ulla and her younger sister. All I understood was that the replies from his dad were, almost unchangingly: Oh l\u00e0 l\u00e0<\/em>!!! My first French lesson in the country. I didn\u2019t understand a thing of Thierry\u2019s chatting.<\/p>\n

We arrived at a nice big house in a little street that curved off from the main street. There used to be two factory buildings down a little hill behind the house, but only one was now in use. Shoelaces were produced and, unfortunately, the market for such things was very slow.<\/p>\n

The little town of Luxeuil-les-Bains had just one main street. About a hundred meters from our house was the most extraordinary invention I didn\u2019t even know existed anywhere in the world \u2013 les lavoirs<\/em>, in a street appropriately named la rue des Lavoirs<\/em>. Coming down our street, rue Henry Guy, to the main street, we passed les lavoirs<\/em> where women in black \u2013 always dressed in black \u2013 were kneeling, scrubbing and rinsing their laundry in the water from the little stream that ran by the wooden construction that was les lavoirs<\/em>. It was to me an unknown world. It seemed as if I was going back a century in time.<\/p>\n

Marie, la bonne<\/em>, lived in that street in a very modest old building and I was once invited to come in and see her home. There was not one single armchair. A big table in the middle of the room, which clearly was an all-purpose room, and straight-backed chairs. But the thought passed through my head that even if you had given her and her husband an armchair or two, they wouldn\u2019t have felt comfortable in them.<\/p>\n

I have since learned that in the homes of small farmers, there is one big tabel  surrounded by quite a few straight-backed chairs — and in later days a television set — and that is where the family lives and receives occasional visitors who are offered a glass of pastis<\/em>, be it Pernod <\/em>or Ricard<\/em>. This room is the kitchen and the only living area in the house.<\/p>\n

Back to Luxeuil now. My almost seven months in Luxeuil with the Spach family turned out to be for better and for worse. The young Swedish wife, 7 years my elder, did not like to cook. She left it all to me, which was a lot of responsibility for a 19-year-old who had never done anything but study and give a helping hand in the kitchen. I had very rudimentary notions of what cooking was all about. We could all cook scrambled eggs in my family, but Gun insisted on having canned sardines to go with the eggs.<\/p>\n

There was the funniest old cookbook I have ever seen and it was my only guide to what I prepared. I think it was Ga\u00ebtane who taught me how to make salad dressing, and I still use just about the same recipe.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Blanche Caramel, “Le nouveau livre de cuisine”<\/p><\/div>\n

The young  wife, Ulla, (Madame Spach to me) showed me this well-used, yellowed book that was titled La nouvelle cuisine fran\u00e7aise<\/em> by Blanche Caramel. It looked a hundred years old. And for the rest it was simply \u2018D\u00e9brouillez-vous!’ (Just do it!)          <\/em><\/p>\n

The name of the cookbook, and in particular of its author, was hilarious, but it taught me how to make a very tasty blanquette de veau<\/em>, among other things. Choucroute <\/em>(Sauerkraut<\/em>) I made according to Ulla’s instruction and, surprisingly enough, it was good.<\/p>\n

What saved me was that I did not have to prepare breakfast, since I hate to get up early in the morning, and especially to work for a family. I didn’t quite know why I owed them all the work I did. I cooked two meals a day, but breakfast, le petit d\u00e9jeuner<\/em>, was fortunately prepared by Marie who came in half days and did the rough work.<\/p>\n

So the great relief was not to have to worry about breakfast, and everybody came down at his or her suitable time. I remember having my breakfast alone, after the “kids” had gone off to school. It\u2019s clear though that I was made to work far more than it had been agreed on. Ulla did not want to be the housekeeper, so I became the one who had to take care of all the things Marie didn\u2019t do. Ulla was in fact her husband\u2019s secretary and\/or accountant in his office premises that took up a large part of our house on the ground floor.<\/p>\n

I took the work in my stride, even thoug Ulla treated me condescendingly; clearly afraid that I might feel superior in some way since I had a ‘real’ studentexamen<\/em> (baccalaur\u00e9at) and she had, as whe told me in Sweden when we met, ‘just’ a commercial studentexamen<\/em>, as she self-consciously told me at that time. <\/p>\n

I liked to do the shopping though, especially le march\u00e9<\/em>, which was something all new to me. The salespeople would wrap up what they sold in newspaper, or in fact most often they just poured the vegetables or whatever straight into your bags. Meat was at the butcher’s store in la rue des Lavoirs, and it was not bad quality. Even simple biftek <\/em>was quite good.<\/p>\n

I thoroughly enjoyed my long walks in the neighborhood, to the village south of Luxeuil, Saint-Sauveur, and into the forest and its Roman road. This was a thrill for a young Swede, who had never seen anything like it, even though there wasn\u2019t much to be seen. Just knowing that this was a road, with big flat stone slabs where the Romans had driven their chariots, was amazing to me.<\/p>\n

What struck me the most though on my walks on a sunny day was the way elderly women, all dressed in black, would move a chair out in front of their little house and were just sitting looking happily on whatever went by \u2013 which was not very much. A different world.<\/p>\n

________________<\/p>\n

I got along very well with everybody in the family, except with the lady of the house, who to me was not Ulla, but Madame. My very good relations with the three children, of whom Ga\u00ebtane was hardly a child any more at the age of 17, would certainly not have made Ulla like me any better. Ulla knew for sure that Ga\u00ebtane would not have anything good to tell me about her stepmother, who was just 26 at the time And: who had been the gouvernante<\/em> in the house the previous year.<\/p>\n

Ga\u00ebtane was actually supposed to have left home to go to her very high-class boarding school, Chambord, from previous years, but her father realized that it would be too costly and plans were changed. Fortunately for me.<\/p>\n

Ga\u00ebtane was two years my junior, but if anything she was more of a woman than I was. It was Ga\u00ebtane who did the most to improve my French. I still remember today words and phrases that she taught me. \u2018Muguet<\/em> \u2019 I said once with a question mark. And Ga\u00ebtane quickly answered \u2018Oh you know, the flower your mother likes so much.’<\/p>\n

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My dear friend Ga\u00ebtane in the bus on our way to Equevilley.<\/p><\/div>\n

She remembered too. She would say when telling me about a surprising thing \u2018Tu te rends compte!\u2019<\/em> And Monsieur Spach would say \u2018Vous vous rendez compte!\u2019<\/em> in similar contexts. So soon it occurred to me that they were saying THE SAME THING. Se rendre compte<\/em> \u2013 of course!!!<\/p>\n

Thierry was a clown and he got along with everybody. In fact, he still today has very good relations with Ulla and her two children whom he considers his brother and sister. But he does say that Ulla is very difficult to get along with. Dominique, the girl, was born when I was there, was a chubby little child when I came back a year later to visit, and I remember Ga\u00ebtane holding her in her arms. Thierry tells me that she has remained chubby.<\/p>\n

Marie, the daily maid, was a sturdy woman always dressed in black too, who was far from stupid and did a good job. Once when I was washing a salad for lunch in the basement kitchen (there was a small kitchen next to the dining room as well), Thierry was standing next to me and he caught me about to throw away the small center of the salad. He said \u2018Mais vous ne jetez pas le c\u0153ur!\u2019<\/em> \u2013 \u2018Si\u2019<\/em>, I said, \u2018pourquoi pas?<\/em>\u2019 \u2013 \u2018Mais je mange le c\u0153ur, moi\u2019<\/em>, he said. Marie had overheard us and she said very fast: \u2018Pas le c\u0153ur de Mademoiselle, j\u2019esp\u00e8re\u2019<\/em>. I have told Thierry about this little episode and how I thought Marie was quite smart. But he doesn\u2019t vouvoyer<\/em> me any more.<\/p>\n

However, I was still like a member of the family, liked or not liked by Ulla, and very soon Ga\u00ebtane and I became close friends. The two younger children were Marie-France, 13, and Thierry, 12. The second son, Alain, 15, was staying with his mother at the time. Marie-France was a quiet girl with beautiful dark eyes. When I asked Thierry how she was doing now, he said \u2018She still has her beautiful eyes.\u2019 She married an artist and soemhow she was the one who took over the ch\u00e2teau of the two old aunts from their mother’s side, known only by the names M\u00e9m\u00e9 and Tata. Thierry could hardly believe it when I started talking about them quite a few years ago. He said “I feel as if time is standing still.”<\/p>\n

________________<\/p>\n

It got to be seven months of work but also lots of fun and partying, \u201csurprise-parties\u201d (a term that has been long gone), most often at our house, but also at the homes of the other girls. Our boyfriends were barely allowed to leave their houses for the Saturday evening parties.<\/p>\n

Once when we had planned with our boyfriends to go to the movies together, Ga\u00ebtane and I were a bit put off when they arrived with their fathers. That was the small town in old France!<\/p>\n

We were often at the home of the twins Weber, the most different twins  I\u2019ve ever known, one tall and slim, the other one short and chubby. One of them was called Marie-Claire but I don’t remember which one. Their father was the Directeur de l\u2019\u00e9tablissement thermal<\/em>, which served us well in the early spring when he had the pool heated for us alone, before the season started. We went swimming in March when it suddenly got warm after a very cold winter.<\/p>\n

There was still a pile of icy and dirty snow outside the wall of our house, but next to the swimming-pool the violets were blooming. I was lying on the sloping lawn by the pool next to my boyfriend Michel, looking at the violets and feeling that life was good. I was to leave to go back home very soon.<\/p>\n

Ga\u00ebtane\u2019s father was very liberal and he let us buy a few bottles of Vouvray mousseux<\/em> for our parties. He said champagne, non<\/em>, but we could have the best mousseux<\/em> wine there is. We would bake a cake to go with the wine and that was enough for a good evening.<\/p>\n

After our parties, when people were asleep in the town, we would walk through the town, arm-in-arm (bras dessus, bras dessous<\/em>) across the whole street down the center of Luxeuil, singing \u00e0 tue-t\u00eate<\/em> silly songs such as :<\/p>\n

Et Jos\u00e9phine elle est malade, elle est malade, malade d\u2019amour
Pour la gu\u00e9rir il faut de la tisane, de la tisane, carottes \u00e9pinard et poirots poirots poirots
Viva les pommes de terre, viva les pommes de terre, carottes, carottes, carottes, \u00e9pinards et poirots poirots poirots<\/p>\n

The people asleep in their beds, or trying to sleep, were not happy and they did let us know it, but we couldn\u2019t be toned down.<\/p>\n

Monsieur Spach’s mother was une grande dame<\/em> with a big heart. It was obvious that the family had seen days when they were in a way the aristocracy of the town. When I was very sick in the Asiatic flue that fall, Grand-m\u00e8re<\/em> was the one who came over and took care of me. With very simple means, but it worked. Ga\u00ebtane and Thierry came and chatted with me every day.<\/p>\n

Also, when Monsieur Spach was upset and banned parties for some time because he had seen Ga\u00ebtane sitting on her boyfriend\u2019s lap at one of our parties, Grand-m\u00e8re<\/em> lent us her apartment. We had to take down her velvet curtains so they wouldn\u2019t smell of smoke afterwards, but that was all right. People smoked in those days. But we were young and strong and everything like that was just fun for us.<\/p>\n

And there was \u2018The Day the Cat Ate the Cake\u2019. It was the evening before Monsieur Spach\u2019s birthday and of course Ga\u00ebtane and I were going to make a cake for him. Said and done. We were in the downstairs kitchen where the cat and the cute white little dog, suitably named Blackie, were allowed in. We happily put the cake together and after it was baked in the oven, we put it on the stove to cool off before putting cream on it. Suddenly, turning around from the pantry we saw the cat up on the stove and he had already gobbled up a considerable piece of the cake. We scratched our heads and considered. There was only one thing to do. We baked another small piece of cake and once it was done, we made some glue with gelatin and stuck it on to the main cake. It looked acceptable and wouldn\u2019t show under the cream. We laughed all the way through the event and finally, when the deed was done, we laughed even more and I said \u2018On a racommod\u00e9 un g\u00e2teau\u2019 (comme on racommode des chaussettes<\/em>). Ga\u00ebtane added \u2018avec de la colle de poisson\u2019<\/em>. I didn\u2019t know at the time that gelatin was fish glue, but I know now. The next day everyone ate it with a good appetite and we never told anyone that the cat had eaten a good piece of the cake. Oh, there was a candle in the middle of the cake too of course and Monsieur Spach was very pleased.<\/p>\n

Ga\u00ebtane was a pretty young woman full of charm and joie de vivre<\/em>. She had fun ideas, she was smart, she had a ringing, happy laugh and she had many talents. When I think back on what she did with her life it feels like such a waste of charm and possibilities. I lost touch with her early on, but through Thierry I know that her life ended very sadly. I miss her. I would have so much to talk to her about. I miss her very much.<\/p>\n

_______________<\/p>\n

It was really thanks to Ga\u00ebtane that this got to be \u2013 as I figured out much much later \u2013 my second adolescence, my French adolescence. I was a late bloomer and the fact that my boyfriend, Michel, was a couple of years younger than I did not bother me, or him, a bit. I have ever after felt completely at home in France. My Frenchness had been made and it remained with me. I was now at home in two countries. However, it wasn\u2019t until my return to Luxeuil and to France the following year that I got to know Paris too.<\/p>\n

On the very last day of 1952, Ga\u00ebtane and I managed to tune in Swedish radio on New Year\u2019s Eve and there was a recorded version of Anders de Wahl, one of the most historical Swedish actors ever, of his late 1940 reading of “Ring, klocka, rin” for the Swedish nation, the same way we had heard him readin it every New Year”s Eve for as far back as I could remember. I almost felt transported to Sweden for a few moments.<\/p>\n

Ring, klocka, ring i bistra ny\u00e5rsnatten
mot rymdens norrskenssky och markens sn\u00f6;
det gamla \u00e5ret l\u00e4gger sig att d\u00f6 . . .
Ring sj\u00e4laringning \u00f6ver land och vatten!<\/p>\n

(Original by Alfred Tennyson \u2013 Ring Out Wild Bells<\/em>, but an excellent translation of a poet I have never thought much of \u2013 translation by Edvard Fredin)<\/p>\n

And then came all the bells ringing from innumerable churches all over Sweden, most likely beginning with the bells from Uppsala Cathedral..I didn\u2019t feel completely abandoned by my own country and family when I heard the Swedish language on the radio and the beautiful sound of all the various church bells.<\/p>\n

On Christmas Eve, Ga\u00ebtane and I went to the church for Midnight Mass just to hear the choir sing. It was exactly what I needed to feel that there had after all been a Christmas.<\/p>\n

A rather sizeable sum of money came down to the Spach family like manna from heaven just before Christmas and that\u2019s how we bought a huge bloc de foie gras <\/em>\u2013 there were six of us \u2013 and this first foie gras<\/em> in my life lasted for many days. I loved it. A goose stuffed with chestnuts (pur\u00e9e de marrons<\/em>)  was cooked instead of a turkey for Christmas Day and that time I was not the cook. When something very special was to be made, it was Monsieur Spach who did it, this time assisted by Ulla for the stuffing. I copied a couple of his gourmet dishes later in Sweden and they came out quite well.<\/p>\n

Whenever Monsieur Spach saw a good reason to have an ap\u00e9ritif,<\/em> he would get the bottle of Noilly Prat sec<\/em> out from behind the bar in the dining room, and I believe that it was only he, Ulla and I who were included in this exclusive little ceremony. Ga\u00ebtane was still considered too young apparently. That is the brand of vermouth that I have always bought ever since then. In the very French way, no hard liquor was ever even thought of.<\/p>\n

Ga\u00ebtane and I used to play Monsieur Spach\u2019s good supply of classical records, 78s of course, in the evenings when everyone else had moved upstairs. It reminded me very much of home. Ga\u00ebtane did not take her homework very seriously and in fact she had never gotten used to hard work at all. I rarely saw her work. Maybe that became her downfall. Do I sound like the Protestant we were brought up to be in my country? I do remember though helping her with her German homework on a couple of occasions. She simply expected me to know everything she had to know. I had passed studentexmen<\/em> \u2013 le baccalaur\u00e9at<\/em> \u2013 and so I was supposed to know.<\/p>\n

Another old world opened up to me that year, all new to me. Ga\u00ebtane had in fact been brought up her mother\u2019s two old aunts. There were two aunts, whom Ga\u00ebtane explained to me were her great-great-great aunts (arri\u00e8re arri\u00e8re grandes tantes<\/em>), called just M\u00e9m\u00e9 and Tata by the children. In fact, they were les demoiselles d’Equevilley. They were on her mother\u2019s side \u2013 and VERY Catholic. Ga\u00ebtane told me I could not let them know I was a Protestant (in fact I was nothing at all \u2013 religion- wise). I had to tell them I was a Catholic. Tata said suspiciously \u201cBut Sweden is a Protestant country.\u201d “Yes,” I said, “but there are Catholics too”. (Oh, the horrible lie \u2013 It was extremely hard for me to lie and especially about religion, for some reason.)  I had a friend who was a Catholic, so I thought it sounded plausible. I just had to lie in order to be accepted by the old ladies.<\/p>\n

Tata, who has long been dead by now of course, will always remain with me as the old lady who would vouvoyer<\/em> her cat. When she got annoyed by the cat running around her feet in the kitchen, she would say Allez-vous-en! Allez ouste!<\/em><\/p>\n

It was in fact Tata who had been responsible for Ga\u00ebtane\u2019s education, in all subjects except math. So she had to take the bus to Vesoul, the closest town, to see a math tutor. No wonder she had a bit of a problem with German, and with school in general. I didn\u2019t know this at the time. She kept this a secret from me, but Thierry told me about it much later one day twhen we met for a long chat over lunch in Vieux Lyon and then walking around because there was so much to talk about. All I knew about Ga\u00ebtane\u2019s schooling was Chambord, the very exclusive boarding school in la vall\u00e9e de la Loire <\/em>where she spent a couple of years among the very upper-class and high nobility children who went to that school.<\/p>\n

We often took the bus from Luxeuil to the ch\u00e2teau in Equevilley on a Sunday, and the first thing we had to do was go to church, la Grande Messe. We had to take that little piece of bread that was passed around in a bread basket. M\u00e9m\u00e9 who was tall and skinny was too feeble to go to church so Tata, who was shorter and stocky, brought a piece of “blessed” bread back home to her sister and M\u00e9m\u00e9 crossed herself and ate it devoutly. Oh, religion!<\/p>\n

Sometimes on our way to Equevilley, Ga\u00ebtane and I would sit in the back of the bus and sing loudly \u2013 \u00e0 tue-t\u00eate<\/em> \u2013 the little pieces of songs we knew. People in the bus would turn around and smile, visibly amused. This was France, not stodgy Sweden.<\/p>\n

On a chant\u00e9 les Parisiennes,
Leurs petits nez et leurs chapeaux
\u2026
On oublie tou-out
Sous le beau ciel de Mexico
On devient fou,
Au son des rythmes tropicaux<\/p>\n

Yves Montand, Henri Salvador, Charles Trenet, Serge Reggianni \u2013 we listened to them all and sang loudly and with great gusto the little we knew of the lyrics of their songs, at home and in the bus or wherever we happened to be. Ga\u00ebtane was probably the most fun young girl I\u2019ve ever known.<\/p>\n

Oh, les beaux jours, et les jours durs aussi\u2026<\/p>\n

J\u2019aime fl\u00e2ner sur les grands boulevards
\u2018y a tant de choses et tant de choses et tant de choses \u00e0 voir\u2026<\/p>\n

My favorite, Yves Montand, singing ut with his usual bravura.<\/p>\n

And, above all maybe, \u2018Les feuilles mortes<\/em>\u2019 de Jacques Pr\u00e9vert.<\/p>\n

C\u2019est une chanson
Qui nous ressemble
Toi tu m\u2019aimais
Et je t\u2019aimais<\/p>\n

\u2026
Mais la vie s\u00e9pare
Ceux qui s\u2019aiment
Tout doucement
Sans faire de bruit
Et la mer efface sur le sable
Les pas des amants d\u00e9sunis<\/p>\n

Oh, the crooners. I never liked the American crooners, but I loved the French ones. I can still hear Yves Montand singing \u2018Les feuilles mortes<\/em>\u2019. And the immortal Edith Piaf, the French legend, nicknamed the little sparrow (le petit moineau<\/em> or M\u00f4me Piaf)<\/em>, because of her tiny stature. Yes, her big breakthrough had already come with ‘La vie en rose’<\/em> several years before my time in Luxeuil, a song that most people loved so much, but I didn’t.<\/p>\n

Much later I did get to like Piaf. I remember Milord<\/em> which I bought as a 45 rpm. Once in Paris on my way back from le Midi,<\/em> I went into a record store (Remember the days of small record stores, where you got excellent advice from the owner?) on Boul’miche <\/em> to buy La Foule<\/em> by Edith Piaf. The store owner handed me the little 45 rpm record and said \u2018Mais attention, c\u2019est vieux.\u2019<\/em> I said \u2018Oui oui, je sais, mais \u00e7a ne fait rien<\/em>.\u2019 For those who don\u2019t like Piaf I can only say that they might find her a bit overly emotional and too loud, somewhat like Liza Minelli, in terms of loudness. But one thing you can never deny is her passion. Wow, the passion coming out of her voice and her appearance is breathtaking. I don\u2019t think I would like Milord<\/em> any more. It\u2019s just too much. But La Foule<\/em> still moves me. Particularly against the background of her tempestuous life. And if you have heard her singing ‘Padam… padam… padam<\/em>…’ once only, you will never forget it again.<\/p>\n

She was still around in the late fifties although very sick. I remember well her marrying her third or fourth husband who was twenty years her junior shortly before her death in 1963. She was only 48, but she already looked old, certainly because of her morphine and alcohol problems.<\/p>\n

A fond and fun memory was my boyfriend Michel coming by our house, standing below my window, whistling Tango bleu<\/em>. It was the signal for me to come down and go for a walk and a bit of loving. I heard his whistling and I threw on a coat and ran downstairs. Happy days. Yes, and hard days too, but that is now forgotten. This was indeed my French youth, and my introduction to France could hardly have been less touristy.<\/p>\n

Oh yes, and Michel looked a bit like Serge Reggianni, the actor and singer from those days.<\/p>\n

Continued: Chapter 5 (Part 3) — One year after<\/a><\/p>\n

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I am starting my second life \u2013 an ode to my dearest friend Ga\u00ebtane The father of the family, Monsieur Spach, came to Basel to pick us up in his cabriolet car, and I\u2019ll never forget the honking in every … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":43,"menu_order":1,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-20771","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/siv-sketches.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/20771","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/siv-sketches.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/siv-sketches.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/siv-sketches.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/siv-sketches.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=20771"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/siv-sketches.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/20771\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":31587,"href":"https:\/\/siv-sketches.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/20771\/revisions\/31587"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/siv-sketches.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/43"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/siv-sketches.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=20771"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}