Merci beaucoup

Meeting Jess and Joel at the TGV station was a joyous event. Hugs and laughter with shared understandings about our experiences here in France punctuated our happiness to see each other. Jess has been my study buddy for a number of years. Joel, her husband, has made sacrifices to be with her and enjoy a year long adventure. Travel, culture, language and socialising on a totally different level to Aotearoa is something that we have in common. Both Jess and Joel are energetic, enthusiastic and positive people. Solutions are always found to any problems, life is a massive wave, ride it and get a big buzz! They live in Maubeuge .... only 9 kilometres from the Belgium border. 

Joel swung my heavy back pack onto his own youthful shoulders, Jess grabbed my little suitcase on rollers and as we walked towards the parked car, Jess proclaimed that we are very lucky that the rain had stopped.

First thing on the agenda was dinner. My train arrived at 8:00 p.m. The kiwi couple were STARVING. I was delighted with their perfect choice of café. It was brimming with personality. The joint was groaning with books. Walls were adorned with a fantastic selection that one can borrow, purchase or add to. It certainly gave the café an adorable ambience of a comfy lounge.

A shelf dedicated to games intrigued my curiosity. I have grown very fond of board games. On many occasions, card games and board games have connected me with new found friends. Laughter, friendly repartee and amicable competition quickly bind people together ..... more than any movie, book, computer game or T.V.

I rather like the idea of piles of books. They kind of give an intellectual air, remind me that they are becoming a curiosity in this day of high tech and the haphazard wonder of a stimulated mind.

Wow! The walls were pasted with pages from books. What a cool idea! I wonder what kind of glue was used???

Anaïs, the friendly/quirky owner was absolutely charming. We were joined by another french friend of Jess. Our party of four dining on soup, quiche and sumptuous desserts. The red house wine was rich, full bodied; it went down a treat after an arduous 9 hour train ride with 2 connections en route.

Afterwards we tourist-walked around the town of Lille. The photos here are absolutely pathetic. They don't do justice to the stunning architecture, the vivacious Valentine's Day vibe as people socialised and spilled onto the wet streets from bars, cafés and restaurants. Below is a shot of a MASSIVE Cathedrale. What a shame the photo doesn't capture its full glory.

 

And here is a blurry shot of the most adorable cobbled narrow street you can imagine. Its ornate architecture with a gothic tower towering above were a highlight of the evening.

The jaunt around the old section of Lille was amazing. I now understood why everyone warned me in advance that I would LOVE IT!!

The journey back to Maubeuge was a full hour. I confess to dropping off a couple of times, as Joel confidently sped along the motorway. When we finally backed into the tiny garage at the bottom of their apartment building in Maubeuge, the clock struck 1:00 a.m. Whoa!

   ...and ...   after being shown around their spacious bright apartment ...   I was treated to the most wonderful display of real tulips in my bedroom. Oh la la!!! Merci beaucoup!!!

Little pleasures

 Sunday was a splendiferous day. When the sun woke up   ...   eventually, the crows ( les corbeaux) cawed loudly, little birdies chirped and my tiny squirrel friend made another appearance. Unfortunately, he is very shy. I had to suffice with watching him scamper across the driveway, before he retreated under the neighbour's hedge. His little furry tail and beady, brown eyes are too cute for words.

After all the poor winter weather, the sun was a welcome respite. Time for a much-needed walk. As you know, all the shops are closed on Sundays,  ...   except for the patisserie. It was doing a roaring trade at midday. The little shop had a queue of a large number of people, before I could make my purchases: a praline brioche and a croissant aux amandes.

I was completely flamoozled at the empty main street. Where is everybody????? Are they at church, sleeping in or doing the housework? I saw one cyclist and a few cars.

In Gap, parallel to the main street, there is a wide cycleway and pedestrian path.

Today, I rose to see a sky that was a magnificent blue. Yummy!

However, oh soooo cold. Determined to profit from the time available to me, I donned 4 layers of clothing and topped it off with ski pants and a ski jacket.

The one hour walk was invigorating and energising. I was amazed that only a 15 minute walk out of Gap and I was in rural countryside. The fields, quaint houses and pollution-free air were exquisite. There was a bitter polar wind and I kept the pace up to keep my body temperature up.

I was able to pause long enough, minus gloves, to take a snap of this superb piece of art work at the entrance to someone's place. Obviously it is number 2. "Bis" means "B" when used in the context of someone's address. The tiles and patterns were quite eye-catching.

A hot cuppa tea on returning to my warm sanctuary was an added pleasure to begin my day.

Hysterically funny

I have two all-time favourite videos on Youtube. They have been in circulation for a long while. Every time they resurface, I laugh until I cry. One is a game show host losing self control at every mention of a famous skier called, "Fanny Schmeller." The other clip is of an interviewer losing self control while he tries to interview a man with a ridiculously squeaky voice at the hands of an operation gone wrong. You know what its like, you think you've got it under control and then it burst out again. I am also a fan of Funny Home videos, which is outrageously disrespectful of other people's dignity. 

I am fully aware that laughing at other people's misfortunes is a travesty of the worst kind. 

The other day, I fell victim to my own game. I had a small group of 14 year old boys and girls, withdrawn from their usual english lesson, so that they could practise their oral skills. There were 4 boys and 4 girls. The group was energetic and full of good humour. At the beginning of the session, 2 of the boys decided that I sounded "funny". Every time I opened my mouth, they went into uncontrollable fits of laughter. At first, I dealt with it through understanding that it was all very strange and weird for them. But then it became impossible to speak, as their guffaws were difficult to compete with. The others were in control and respectfully polite. Despite my understanding that they were young, and that I presented as an oddity, I quickly became quite offended at their arrogant, immature attitude towards me. The situation was diffused as one of them returned to his lesson with his regular teacher. (Once upon a time ... I was 14 .... so I am totally Ok with it all.) It was a bit awkward, nevertheless.

I can see a pattern arising. I am finding that people who have learnt a different language, or people that have experienced life out of their hometown, are tolerant, empathetic and patient towards foreigners.

I am so glad that the New Zealand government is seeing the need to become part of a global community. We seem to be tucked away, next to and a bit further down than Australia. We are surrounded in vast areas of ocean; our nearest neighbour speaks English, etc. It is in this way that NZ is spending money on the facilitation of excellent pedagogy, teacher skills and advancing the quality of second language acquisition. Being part of the system whereby NZ teachers have the opportunity to experience their chosen second language in an immersion experience is beyond fortunate. 

Research into second language acquisition tells us that language and culture are inextricably woven together. We also know that comparisons and connections between languages and cultures are part and parcel of the learning process. The expansion of perspectives is a fantastic phenomenon that I have increasingly become part of. I feel that I will return to New Zealand with a new-found empathy for "foreigners" for want of a better word.

In my English conversation classes, I invite students to try and speak by giving them subjects written on cards. Here are some thought provoking discussion starters:

• Cultural differences cause problems. Is it better for people to stay in their own countries rather than migrate to other ones? Do you agree?
• Would you rather live in  a monoculture, or a multi-racial society? Why?
• It is better to study international languages, rather than spending time on minority languages for the sake of racial identity. Do you agree?
• Is it better to marry someone of the same cultural background?
• How do you think French culture differs form British culture/American culture?
• Are children of illegal immigrants entitled to a public education?

And so, I am so proud that my family are well travelled. Their minds have been expanded exponentially and I can see that they will be fabulous ambassadors for the promotion of not only cultural tolerance, but also, for a culturally harmonious and peaceful future.

New York

Auckland

Gap, France

Paris

Cuneo, Italy

Paris

Nice, France

Lyons, France

My Over-generalised Observation of French Women

On reflection of the past few months, I realise that I have made some fantastic friendships with some wonderful french women. I am so fortunate to have met them. I would like to think that I can learn from them. 

Here are ten tips; although they are incredibly over-generalised, there are strong elements of truth than weaves its way through my words.

1. French women are very well groomed. They embrace their femininity. Their hair always seemed to be styled up beautifully or they sport an excellent hair cut. I haven't seen any ponytails. Instead their hair is lifted with clasps. Frequently their nails are painted.

2. French women have great skin. They obviously moisturise; especially as the air is so dry, here in the alps. Here in Gap, there is a range of minimal make-up to heavily made-up. Whichever it is, it always looks very well groomed. The women have a natural and sophisticated beauty.

3. Comfort here in Gap, means skinny jeans or pants, a soft pullover, ankle boots and a chic scarf. Accessories are little pieces and the handbag is always understated. No track pants or ill fitting clothes.

4. They have very warm hearts. Their love for others is expressed through home made, fabulous meals, .... consistently.

5. The French women never snack, and they always seem industrious and energetic.

6. Smiles are everywhere. The shopkeepers and bus drivers have perfect manners. Greetings and salutations always prelude a conversation. I have never seen food eaten on the run. Food is eaten in the dining room. 

7. Although French women work hard, they know how to keep the weekend clear for family time.

8. Children are raised with a firm, fair and fun attitude. In return, the children are respectful and loving.

9. The art of eating is done with grace and a sense of social enjoyment. They don't spit their food as they are talking, and they very rarely spill their food.

10. French women are trim, well-read, proud and fabulous.

Voilà!

Weather woes.

Thursday night it turned a tad cold.

The next day frost had played games with the pavement outside my apartment. 

It kinda resembles icing sugar, n'est-ce pas?

However, the frivolity of ice can be mortally serious. This truck driver had a lucky escape. The road to Tallard, a town not far from Gap, was treacherously slippery.

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I was gutted the other day when my pretty, twice-used, purple, striped umbrella snapped. It had cost a pretty penny and it was a sturdy as a wooden walking cane. Unfortunately, the wood had become brittle because of the cold. I was not a happy camper when the cleanly snapped handle broke, rendered it useless.

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And so after the snow and ice, the rain has come. It rains big, wet, enormous drops. I needed to make an urgent trip to the bank to get some money out to pay the rent. 

I braved the soppy raindrops to experience a mushy scene of melting snow, mud and cars sloshing a spray of water onto me as they whizzed past.

Mud puddles have the same charm and allure as they do in New Zealand. ( Zero!)

Wooosshhhhh!

Eeeeooooowwwww!

The local stream gurgled and gushed with muddy mischief.

I retreated back to my apartment and took a snap of my quick diversion to the patisserie.

On the left is the world's most delicious caramel muffin, with gooey caramel as a treat in the middle. On the right is a fresh, sugar coated brioche. It is simply delish in the morning with a cuppa English Breakfast tea, a smattering of real butter and a light slather of home made raspberry and blackberry jam.

W-w-w-w-w-w-w-winter wonderland

Man, I was so lucky to get the opportunity to go to the mountains to have fun in the snow. 

I was with a family. Three teenage boys. Simply divine. It sure made me hanker for the fun times with my three sons. 

We had a divine Saturday night dinner of homemade vegetable soup. I slept in an arrangement a bit like a loft. I was cosy as a pig in mud.

The next morning, I woke up and was blown away with the kindness of my hostess. She had made a fresh cup of hot delicious coffee. She brought it to my bedside so that I could drink it  whilst still in bed. 

After a quick shower, I skipped downstairs to be greeted with these vistas through the chateau windows. 

It took about half an hour, or maybe even a bit more for D. and I to prepare for an outdoor excursion. (It must be such a hassle to prepare a young family for an outdoor fun.)

The conditions were quite ominous at times, nevertheless, I had the time of my life frolicking in the snow. All the time, I couldn't stop grinning. After a while, my teeth became cold. How bizarre.

I was admiring the gorgeous view from the doorway, when an unexpected snowball skimmed past my nose. The obligatory snowball fight then announced the beginning of the outdoor adventure.

The snow was a most exquisite neon, fluorescent white. It was powdery, wet and deep as my ankles. Putting on the rackets was awkward and clumsy for a "noob" like me. How fortunate they matched my bright pink outfit.

I was deeply grateful that I had purchased the quality snow gear for a "song" at a local opportunity shop.

As you know, working hard in the snow means that you perspire a lot underneath all the layers. 

The up hill climb was peppered with intermittent stops to catch our breath and for me to take a snap.

The wind works creates snowy, artistic formations just like it does with sand.

At times, the snow descended with pea soup density.

The sky belied the fact that it was almost mid day.

The icy lake made me shiver at the thought of accidentally falling in. D. told me that she fondly remembers a summer birthday party for one of her boys. She loaded up a truckload of energetic boys and took them to this lake for a birthday picnic. The boys had a ball and she didn't have to entertain them at all. Very "cool". I had to use my imagination, to picture this little corner of paradise in summer.

The wind whipped at my cheeks and the wet was starting to dribble down the front of my jacket. It was at this point that I suggested that we turn around and start heading for home.

I didn't take any more snaps, as the job of taking off my gloves and mittens was a chore. The wind really was quite vicious.

However, at one point, we found shelter from the wind. We paused for a 3 minute meditation break. It was magical. Really felt privileged to experience the mountain whilst it was in a wintry mood.

Oh boy!!!

Blogging has slowed down due to a "hunkering in" phenomenon that takes place when the weather is somewhat wintry.

Despite my seasonal preferences biased towards sun and warmth; I am not totally down and out. I have taken to doing press ups and sit ups in an effort to avoid resembling "Jabba-the -Hutt" of Star Wars fame. I have knitted a gorgeous pair of leg warmers. Their completion has been perfectly timed for the coldest month of the year. I am listening to the audio book, "The Book Thief" as I sit on my bed at night; three pillows propped behind me, 4 T-shirts on and a plethora of blankets over my legs. Before I drop off to sleep, I dream of sun-drenched fields, waterfalls, chirping cicadas and white fluffy clouds riding on a gentle breeze.