September 9, 2016
As I was preparing to go to France back in March I was preoccupied with the impending adventure. I was curious as to how I would react, how I would feel etc. Leading up to my departure Dan planned and pulled off an amazing farewell party for me, inviting so many people who all wished me well.
It was a great evening. So much positive energy, words of encouragement and genuine excitement for me. I finished that evening full of energy and joy. Sure it was going to be challenging leaving everyone behind, friends, family, Dan, but it was only for 6 months. I'd be back at the end of the summer.
Here now, sitting in my little studio apartment writing this, I'm a few weeks away from returning to Canada. Or more specifically, leaving France.
I've had a grand time here. I've enjoyed meeting my teachers and being instructed by them in the grammar and nuances of the French language. I've met some lovely people here. Some have left already themselves, some will remain once I leave. I will say goodbye to my host family who have been incredibly welcoming and generous. Even their neighbour has welcomed me into his entourage.
I've enjoyed the city and all that the south of France has offered me. The weather has been spectacular, the food has been delicious and the beaches delightful.
In a week I will be leaving Montpellier and everything it gave me.
I am confident I will be back. Someday. I am confident I will see the people whom I've met again. Someday. I will see my host family again. Someday.
But not in 6 months.
I have come to appreciate the French language for its delightful nuances. In the process however, I have also learned that this nuance exists in English. And when you think about it, those nuances can be just as profound.
And that is what the difference is for me between "going" and "leaving". And why for me, going was exciting and why leaving is sad.
Thursday, September 8, 2016
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
After Barcelona
June 25, 2016
So I'm back on the TGV again, this time leaving Barcelona and heading back to Montpellier after spending a week in Spain with Dan. It feels weird leaving him again. It's also odd that I'm going to France and he is going back to Canada. By the time I'm back in my little studio, he'll only have just taken off from the airport in Barcelona. When he lands in Toronto, I'll be finishing dinner.
As a side note, the TGV between France and Spain really only hits that magical 300 km/h for about 10 minutes as it leaves Spain and before it gets to the first town. You can feel it build speed, your ears "pop" and the world wizzes by. And then you feel yourself decelerate again. Regardless, it is still a fantastic way to travel!
There is a part of me that feels good about going "home" to France. Yes, I used that word when Dan and I were talking last night. It is interesting that I referred to France as "home" over dinner. I'm clearly comfortable there, which is a good sign. At the same time, I'm a little homesick as Dan equals home too and seeing him was a bit of normal again. Yes, I am looking forward to going back to Toronto again, but I'm aware that it will be different too.
After experiencing life here in Europe, life in Canada by contrast has both pros and cons. Two months ago I would have spoken only about the pros of Canada, but now I see the cons too. Canada is incredibly safe, I don't think I've ever paid as much attention to my surroundings as I have since getting here. I rarely worry about my cell phone in Toronto, it regularly lives in my back pocket or on a table in a cafe. We are, for the most part, a world away from the challenges in the rest of the world. Here, those challenges are just a few hours away by car. On the other side, we are truly challenged by our vast land area and our very tiny population. There just isn't a large enough tax base to fund the massive investment required for our infrastructure needs. We are also heavily influenced by the North American need to work all the time. Europe has a much better sense of balancing work and personal life. Not that they don't work hard, they do, but it seems that when work is done, its done and you focus on family and friends.
So I'm back on the TGV again, this time leaving Barcelona and heading back to Montpellier after spending a week in Spain with Dan. It feels weird leaving him again. It's also odd that I'm going to France and he is going back to Canada. By the time I'm back in my little studio, he'll only have just taken off from the airport in Barcelona. When he lands in Toronto, I'll be finishing dinner.
As a side note, the TGV between France and Spain really only hits that magical 300 km/h for about 10 minutes as it leaves Spain and before it gets to the first town. You can feel it build speed, your ears "pop" and the world wizzes by. And then you feel yourself decelerate again. Regardless, it is still a fantastic way to travel!
There is a part of me that feels good about going "home" to France. Yes, I used that word when Dan and I were talking last night. It is interesting that I referred to France as "home" over dinner. I'm clearly comfortable there, which is a good sign. At the same time, I'm a little homesick as Dan equals home too and seeing him was a bit of normal again. Yes, I am looking forward to going back to Toronto again, but I'm aware that it will be different too.
After experiencing life here in Europe, life in Canada by contrast has both pros and cons. Two months ago I would have spoken only about the pros of Canada, but now I see the cons too. Canada is incredibly safe, I don't think I've ever paid as much attention to my surroundings as I have since getting here. I rarely worry about my cell phone in Toronto, it regularly lives in my back pocket or on a table in a cafe. We are, for the most part, a world away from the challenges in the rest of the world. Here, those challenges are just a few hours away by car. On the other side, we are truly challenged by our vast land area and our very tiny population. There just isn't a large enough tax base to fund the massive investment required for our infrastructure needs. We are also heavily influenced by the North American need to work all the time. Europe has a much better sense of balancing work and personal life. Not that they don't work hard, they do, but it seems that when work is done, its done and you focus on family and friends.
I'm going to see Dan!
June 17, 2016
I'm sitting on the TGV, heading west from Montpellier on my way to Barcelona. Three hours by train, only about 5 stops so it is considered a direct train. It is pretty amazing to think that within 3 hours not only am I in a different city, but a different country with a different language and culture!
To be honest, I've been feeling nervous the last few days as this trip was approaching. However, I may have mistaken 'fear' for anticipation. Dan and I have been separated before for long periods of time, but in those instances, it was me that stayed at home. So I've been nervous about what may or may not have changed for each of us and afraid of what that may or may not mean.
After having mulled over my feelings in my head for a few days, I think the better word for what I'm feeling is anticipation. First date anxiety as Dan would say. A combination of nervousness and excitement. I haven't been paying as much attention at school as I should be as I've counted down the days to this trip. And even though I'm on my way to see him, I still have one more sleep before he arrives on Saturday.
It is going to be a good visit, but I'm already aware that his leaving in a week will be hard. After almost three months apart, I do have to admit that I have been feeling a little bit of homesickness. As much as it has dissipated greatly, it is still there in the back of my heart. I do miss everyone back home. It reminds me of what my friend Kevin said to me the other week. He spent his career travelling all over the world, so many cities, so many adventures. Whenever he was asked what his favourite city was, he always replied, "the one were my family was". I think that is a very true statement. Home is where your family is.
Ok, enough reflection. I'll be arriving in Barcelona in 30 minutes! Here's to a great reunion with Dan!
I'm sitting on the TGV, heading west from Montpellier on my way to Barcelona. Three hours by train, only about 5 stops so it is considered a direct train. It is pretty amazing to think that within 3 hours not only am I in a different city, but a different country with a different language and culture!
To be honest, I've been feeling nervous the last few days as this trip was approaching. However, I may have mistaken 'fear' for anticipation. Dan and I have been separated before for long periods of time, but in those instances, it was me that stayed at home. So I've been nervous about what may or may not have changed for each of us and afraid of what that may or may not mean.
After having mulled over my feelings in my head for a few days, I think the better word for what I'm feeling is anticipation. First date anxiety as Dan would say. A combination of nervousness and excitement. I haven't been paying as much attention at school as I should be as I've counted down the days to this trip. And even though I'm on my way to see him, I still have one more sleep before he arrives on Saturday.
It is going to be a good visit, but I'm already aware that his leaving in a week will be hard. After almost three months apart, I do have to admit that I have been feeling a little bit of homesickness. As much as it has dissipated greatly, it is still there in the back of my heart. I do miss everyone back home. It reminds me of what my friend Kevin said to me the other week. He spent his career travelling all over the world, so many cities, so many adventures. Whenever he was asked what his favourite city was, he always replied, "the one were my family was". I think that is a very true statement. Home is where your family is.
Ok, enough reflection. I'll be arriving in Barcelona in 30 minutes! Here's to a great reunion with Dan!
Friday, July 22, 2016
Two months in
June 3, 2016
Two whole months here. I haven't written anything in a while. I think this is a good sign actually. It means I've settled in.
The month of May has been great! I've managed to establish a bit of a social circle. I've added some new friends to my existing group and now have lots of opportunity to do different things depending on who is interested in what and when.
I was also blessed with a visit from Charles and Ros (my aunt and uncle from the UK (my mother's brother and my Godfather) for a few days. We packed a lot in and it was fantastic! We saw Carcassonne and Pont du Gard and we ate some amazing meals together (and drank some wine too!).
Carcassonne is a world heritage site and its designation is well deserved! Dating back to Roman times, this castle and walled city has been beautifully maintained and restored. But not restored in the Disney sense, you really do get the feeling you are walking back in time as you pass through its gates and into the main courtyard of the castle. The streets of the town are narrow, cobbled with little shops on either side. As you wind your way through the halls and rooms, the walls and towers of the castle, you get not only a great sense of history but are able to capture some amazing views of the countryside. We had a glorious day, lots of sun, not to hot, and the view of the mountains in the distance was lovely.
The second visit was to Pont du Gard. A Roman aqua duct that crosses the Gard river. Also incredibly well maintained, it stands as a monstrous piece of architecture and engineering in the wilderness. They have maintain the site in a very natural setting, you can sunbath on the rivers edge, swim, kayak in the river as you pass beneath this amazing site. The museum and visitors centre gives you all kinds of great information including pictures and video of remaining aqua ducts that connect to this one as they meander through the French countryside to Nimes. Again, the French need to be applauded for the sense of preservation and appreciation of their history.
As I said farewell to Charles and Ros and settled back into my 'regular' life here, I realized that I have really settled in nicely. The move to my new location was a very good decision. George, Nicole and their neighbour Mark are wonderful! Incredibly welcoming, friendly, warm and generous!
As May drew to a close, I came to realize something that I will have to get used to. While I'm here for 6 months, that is the exception not the rule. So I had to say goodbye to two friends as they ended their tour and headed off on their next adventures. It was sad to see them go as I really enjoyed their company. Another friend headed off on a week's vacation also and I suddenly felt my little circle close in. In short I started to feel lonely again.
New students arrive every week but so far those that I've met, I haven't bonded with in quite the same way. I will have to get used to people leaving all the time I suppose. I imagine this is what it must be like for people who are part of the Armed Forces. Always having to say goodbye as you move onto the next place.
The other thing that I have noticed is that my french seems to be going backwards!!!! I have found myself making mistakes. Little errors, but errors that I shouldn't be making. In the last week in particular I have struggled to speak in general and it was even pointed out to me that I sometimes even forget to conjugate my verbs!
Perhaps it is over confidence? Perhaps I'm feeling a bit overloaded after two months? The classes do move very quickly. Maybe I need to just slow down when I'm speaking, literally. The other thought I had was whether the events of the last year are not yet properly dealt with. Either way, Dan says that I should just take a deep breathe and stop being so hard on myself.
Funny how that theme rears its head time and time again.
Perhaps that will be my focus for June.
It's nice this life. A very short to-do list, lots of time to do it in.
If this is what retirement is like, sign me up!
Two whole months here. I haven't written anything in a while. I think this is a good sign actually. It means I've settled in.
The month of May has been great! I've managed to establish a bit of a social circle. I've added some new friends to my existing group and now have lots of opportunity to do different things depending on who is interested in what and when.
I was also blessed with a visit from Charles and Ros (my aunt and uncle from the UK (my mother's brother and my Godfather) for a few days. We packed a lot in and it was fantastic! We saw Carcassonne and Pont du Gard and we ate some amazing meals together (and drank some wine too!).
Carcassonne is a world heritage site and its designation is well deserved! Dating back to Roman times, this castle and walled city has been beautifully maintained and restored. But not restored in the Disney sense, you really do get the feeling you are walking back in time as you pass through its gates and into the main courtyard of the castle. The streets of the town are narrow, cobbled with little shops on either side. As you wind your way through the halls and rooms, the walls and towers of the castle, you get not only a great sense of history but are able to capture some amazing views of the countryside. We had a glorious day, lots of sun, not to hot, and the view of the mountains in the distance was lovely.
The second visit was to Pont du Gard. A Roman aqua duct that crosses the Gard river. Also incredibly well maintained, it stands as a monstrous piece of architecture and engineering in the wilderness. They have maintain the site in a very natural setting, you can sunbath on the rivers edge, swim, kayak in the river as you pass beneath this amazing site. The museum and visitors centre gives you all kinds of great information including pictures and video of remaining aqua ducts that connect to this one as they meander through the French countryside to Nimes. Again, the French need to be applauded for the sense of preservation and appreciation of their history.
As I said farewell to Charles and Ros and settled back into my 'regular' life here, I realized that I have really settled in nicely. The move to my new location was a very good decision. George, Nicole and their neighbour Mark are wonderful! Incredibly welcoming, friendly, warm and generous!
As May drew to a close, I came to realize something that I will have to get used to. While I'm here for 6 months, that is the exception not the rule. So I had to say goodbye to two friends as they ended their tour and headed off on their next adventures. It was sad to see them go as I really enjoyed their company. Another friend headed off on a week's vacation also and I suddenly felt my little circle close in. In short I started to feel lonely again.
New students arrive every week but so far those that I've met, I haven't bonded with in quite the same way. I will have to get used to people leaving all the time I suppose. I imagine this is what it must be like for people who are part of the Armed Forces. Always having to say goodbye as you move onto the next place.
The other thing that I have noticed is that my french seems to be going backwards!!!! I have found myself making mistakes. Little errors, but errors that I shouldn't be making. In the last week in particular I have struggled to speak in general and it was even pointed out to me that I sometimes even forget to conjugate my verbs!
Perhaps it is over confidence? Perhaps I'm feeling a bit overloaded after two months? The classes do move very quickly. Maybe I need to just slow down when I'm speaking, literally. The other thought I had was whether the events of the last year are not yet properly dealt with. Either way, Dan says that I should just take a deep breathe and stop being so hard on myself.
Funny how that theme rears its head time and time again.
Perhaps that will be my focus for June.
It's nice this life. A very short to-do list, lots of time to do it in.
If this is what retirement is like, sign me up!
Tuesday, July 19, 2016
Demonstrations are a regular occurence
During my first couple of weeks here in Montpellier I was confronted with public demonstrations and protests. In fact, I was just strolling in the main square one day when I found myself suddenly engulfed by hundreds of protesting students.
As a nice law abiding Canadian, this was pretty confronting, unusual and a bit scary frankly.
What was even more shocking was the number of police that were on the scene. In France they are equipped with not only hand guns but semi automatic rifles too. They were everywhere and after a while started shooting off tear gas. I was well away by that point, but I read it in the French papers.
What I came to realize, and appreciate, is that it is quite normal for the french to speak up like this. To take to the streets to make their voice heard, loud and clear.
It is also quite common place for some people to take advantage of the situation and add a bit of violence to the situation. Breaking store windows, looting and vandalism. Unfortunately this means that the police are prepared to use tear gas and sometimes do.
What we learned in class here at school is that this penchant for demonstration is part of the culture. It goes all the way back to the French Revolution. It was emphasized by the riots of 1968 that took place not only in Paris (and all over France) but in the US, Canada and the rest of the western world.
These demonstrations in April, May and June all had to do with the new work laws (loi de travail) that the government here has been trying to put in place. They have been strong arming it frankly too which doesn't help, bypassing the normal debate process. As we moved into June and July, the large unions started to strike on a regular basis. The SNCF (national trains), the garbage workers in Paris, the workers at all the oil refineries, even the Air France pilots got in on the action (although for different reasons). They strategically took advantage of the Euro Cup (football) that France hosted through July trying to force the government to back down on this reform.
This level of strike activity and activism is big news for a Canuck like me! I was fascinated by it. Reading and listening to the news to try and understand what was going on. As I asked the French here about it and their reactions to the strikes, the response I got was very much "business as usual". Strikes are common place here, to the point of almost boredom. It's just a way of life. The trains still managed to run, people simply lined up for gas and others just made other arrangements in their life.
I can't say I'm used to it just yet, but I am far less agitated now when they announce another workers action. :)
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
Was I excited?
As word began to get out among my friends and colleagues about my pending sabbatical in France, the most often asked question was "am I excited?".
My immediate reaction at the time was actually "no". That isn't to say I was excited or that I was dreading my adventure, of course not. It just wasn't the emotion that was top of mind for me.
Of course not being able to live up to expectations gave me pause for thought. :) Even Dan seemed to be more excited for me than I was. After some discussion one evening I landed on the word trepidation.
Trepidation: Merriam-Webster defines the word as a nervous feeling of uncertain agitation. Ok, thats a bit more negative than I felt. But the idea of uncertainty and agitation resonate with me. The agitation is the positive part, the exciting part for me. A new adventure for sure and the fulfilment of a dream. The nervous feeling is self explanatory and not altogether foreign for such an adventure.
So all in all, not the expectation of most people.
So I peeled another layer. By the time people were finding out, the plan had been in motion for months. New news to you, old news to me. When I first decided to bounce the idea around with the HR team, that was nervousness. What if they said "no"? What if they said "yes"? That was the exciting part, leaving the office that day knowing that it was a possibility. I had to finalize and fine tune the plan I had presented, but the idea itself was met with support. This is good news! That was exciting!
It reminded me of when I decided to leave Ford all those years ago to join Nissan. Making the decision, during the interview process with Nissan, that I would say "yes" if they offered me the job; meaning I had to then turn around and tell Ford that I was leaving. That was the hard part. The opportunity then became very exciting. The time after that was relatively easy as the machine was now in motion.
Once all was set and the plan agreed to with work for my sabbatical in France, it was simply a matter of following the plan. The ship had left port so to speak. For me it was old news. Something that had been going on for months. For all of you it was brand new and exciting!
Just like it was for me once I asked and once a plan had been agreed to. So yes, it is exciting!
My immediate reaction at the time was actually "no". That isn't to say I was excited or that I was dreading my adventure, of course not. It just wasn't the emotion that was top of mind for me.
Of course not being able to live up to expectations gave me pause for thought. :) Even Dan seemed to be more excited for me than I was. After some discussion one evening I landed on the word trepidation.
Trepidation: Merriam-Webster defines the word as a nervous feeling of uncertain agitation. Ok, thats a bit more negative than I felt. But the idea of uncertainty and agitation resonate with me. The agitation is the positive part, the exciting part for me. A new adventure for sure and the fulfilment of a dream. The nervous feeling is self explanatory and not altogether foreign for such an adventure.
So all in all, not the expectation of most people.
So I peeled another layer. By the time people were finding out, the plan had been in motion for months. New news to you, old news to me. When I first decided to bounce the idea around with the HR team, that was nervousness. What if they said "no"? What if they said "yes"? That was the exciting part, leaving the office that day knowing that it was a possibility. I had to finalize and fine tune the plan I had presented, but the idea itself was met with support. This is good news! That was exciting!
It reminded me of when I decided to leave Ford all those years ago to join Nissan. Making the decision, during the interview process with Nissan, that I would say "yes" if they offered me the job; meaning I had to then turn around and tell Ford that I was leaving. That was the hard part. The opportunity then became very exciting. The time after that was relatively easy as the machine was now in motion.
Once all was set and the plan agreed to with work for my sabbatical in France, it was simply a matter of following the plan. The ship had left port so to speak. For me it was old news. Something that had been going on for months. For all of you it was brand new and exciting!
Just like it was for me once I asked and once a plan had been agreed to. So yes, it is exciting!
Friday, May 6, 2016
Home
Since arriving in France I have been living with a woman in her house, in a room, with breakfast and dinner included. I had wanted to do this to immerse myself as much as possible in the language and the culture.
Mme's home is an apartment within an old mansion. Very French, on a quiet street only a 15 minute walk from school.
My room was quite large with a desk and comfortable bed. The home was as I expected, old with quite a bit of charm in terms of old doors, intricate baseboards and very high ceilings. In its' day, it was likely a spectacular home.
Mme was very specific in how to manage in the house. The doors and locks were a bit finicky and she wanted to ensure that locked up tight every night. Including the front gate. Oh, and that I please leave my keys on the front hall table so that she could know if I was in or out at any given point. No problem, I am a guest after all.
I unpacked and got settled in. Toward the end of this task she arrived to see how I was doing. My first lesson was that if the door to my room was open, she was apparently welcome to come in to see how I was doing. This was an important lesson as Mme does enjoy talking. During this encounter, she was kind enough to inform me that the location I had chosen for my shoes was not to her liking and that I should place them elsewhere. Um, ok. No biggy.
She also explained to me that in the morning I should feel free to open my window to air the room out. I suppose she was somewhat familiar with how stinky us guys get.
Dinner time was agreed to and I showed up promptly at 7pm where I met Stephanie, a 16 year old Swiss girl who was also staying with Mme for the next two weeks. Dinner was, simple. Salad, 2 sausages (local), a glass of water, some pasta and chocolate pudding for dessert. You know, the kind your mom gave you in your lunch when you were 10. Conversation was good, a nice opportunity for me to practice. At the conclusion of dinner I felt it best to retire to my room where I got ready for my first day of school and hit the sack.
Up the next morning, into the shower, shaved and back to my room to get dressed. First challenge was where to hang my wet towel. No hooks. The washroom was not an option given that one of the rules was to leave the door open "just so" in order to make all inhabitants aware of whether someone was in the bathroom or not. With no operational lock, I imagine at some point poor madam was shocked by an unexpected visitor.
I chose to hang my towel on the stairs that lead to the loft/storage area above my bed (remember the high ceilings? Makes for great storage solutions) and off to school I went.
Upon my return later that day after class I found that my towel had been moved to the radiator where it was neatly draped. Upon hearing my arrival (yep, left that door open) Mme announced that I had left the towel in the wrong location and that it should be placed over the radiator instead. Wood and water do not go well together. While this is true, it was a damp towel not a soaking one and the stairs are simple Home Depot 2x4s not 17th century antiques. However, no problem.
I learned this day too that my first week of class would be every afternoon from 1-7 not the morning/afternoon I had been lead to believe. This was likely going to be just for the first week. I let Mme know this as it did affect the dining hour and she was understanding but felt that I should really talk to the school about it to have the schedule changed. She also let me know that there was a good library in town that I could spend my mornings studying at. Um, ok. Then what is the desk for in my room I thought to myself? I was getting the feeling that my room was for sleeping in only.
Did I mention that she had a lovely salon? A corner room with lovely views of the garden with the light streaming in? She did show it to me. But I was not invited to use it.
Dinner was served at 7:30 right when I got back from school. We had salad, left over pasta and some "yummy" prepackaged fish delicacy that is unique to Lyon and that she was very proud to serve. It smelled like fish, tasted like fish but I'm not entirely sure there was any fish in it. And chocolate pudding for dessert.
The next morning I was informed that as I come and go between rooms that I need to be sure to close the doors. I had been leaving my bedroom door open for the 3 minutes it took me to go to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Noted.
Clothes for washing were to be left for Saturday morning. But she did my laundry on Friday anyway. I was informed that I needed to turn my shirts inside out for her so that they wash better. I was missing 4 socks when the laundry was returned to me (neatly folded I might add). I found this quite amusing as apparently French laundry machines have the same appetite for socks as Canadian machines. When I tried to share the joke I was asked if I was sure that I had actually brought them with me from Canada. Um, yes. Yes I am sure I brought complete pairs of socks with me from Canada.
In my second week I caught a cold. Nothing horrible, just an annoying stuffy nose. As I had no kleenex in my room I used toilet paper. Works just the same. Two days later I was informed that I was not to use toilet paper for my nose. Kleenex was much better. I agreed and informed her that as I had no kleenex in my room that I was using toilet paper instead. No, this had to change. It was not her responsibility to provide kleenex for my nose. TP for my bum yes, but nothing for my drippy nose. I needed to buy this myself.
That was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Off I went to the school to ask for help to find another place to live. I still wanted to stay with a family, but I needed a less rigid place to live. Unfortunately, because of the length of my stay there were not a lot of opportunities that met my primary considerations, specifically, walking distance. The trams are great here, but I'm back and forth a lot and walking is way better. Especially with all the cheese I'm enjoying.
There were a couple of studios available within walking distance. This unfortunately meant I'd have to provide for myself (hence no French food to enjoy) and I'd loose the extra time speaking french with a family. However, my sanity was a priority.
Besides, I think I may have stretched a little thinking I could return to "dorm" life after so many years living independently.
In short, after 2 weeks in France, I decided to move.
So, on Saturday April 23rd I moved to a studio within town and not too far from where I was living originally. Boy oh boy, Mme was not happy when she found out. But it validated my hypothesis that the students she takes in are a way of supporting herself. Which explains why she works so hard to keep costs low. Wretched bread, chocolate pudding and no kleenex etc. To be honest, not a great situation for her I recognize, but she is unfortunately also short changing her guests on the French experience in the process.
As for my new studio? Well, it is frankly just a bedroom with a small kitchenette and a tiny bathroom. However:
Mme's home is an apartment within an old mansion. Very French, on a quiet street only a 15 minute walk from school.
My room was quite large with a desk and comfortable bed. The home was as I expected, old with quite a bit of charm in terms of old doors, intricate baseboards and very high ceilings. In its' day, it was likely a spectacular home.
Mme was very specific in how to manage in the house. The doors and locks were a bit finicky and she wanted to ensure that locked up tight every night. Including the front gate. Oh, and that I please leave my keys on the front hall table so that she could know if I was in or out at any given point. No problem, I am a guest after all.
I unpacked and got settled in. Toward the end of this task she arrived to see how I was doing. My first lesson was that if the door to my room was open, she was apparently welcome to come in to see how I was doing. This was an important lesson as Mme does enjoy talking. During this encounter, she was kind enough to inform me that the location I had chosen for my shoes was not to her liking and that I should place them elsewhere. Um, ok. No biggy.
She also explained to me that in the morning I should feel free to open my window to air the room out. I suppose she was somewhat familiar with how stinky us guys get.
Dinner time was agreed to and I showed up promptly at 7pm where I met Stephanie, a 16 year old Swiss girl who was also staying with Mme for the next two weeks. Dinner was, simple. Salad, 2 sausages (local), a glass of water, some pasta and chocolate pudding for dessert. You know, the kind your mom gave you in your lunch when you were 10. Conversation was good, a nice opportunity for me to practice. At the conclusion of dinner I felt it best to retire to my room where I got ready for my first day of school and hit the sack.
Up the next morning, into the shower, shaved and back to my room to get dressed. First challenge was where to hang my wet towel. No hooks. The washroom was not an option given that one of the rules was to leave the door open "just so" in order to make all inhabitants aware of whether someone was in the bathroom or not. With no operational lock, I imagine at some point poor madam was shocked by an unexpected visitor.
I chose to hang my towel on the stairs that lead to the loft/storage area above my bed (remember the high ceilings? Makes for great storage solutions) and off to school I went.
Upon my return later that day after class I found that my towel had been moved to the radiator where it was neatly draped. Upon hearing my arrival (yep, left that door open) Mme announced that I had left the towel in the wrong location and that it should be placed over the radiator instead. Wood and water do not go well together. While this is true, it was a damp towel not a soaking one and the stairs are simple Home Depot 2x4s not 17th century antiques. However, no problem.
I learned this day too that my first week of class would be every afternoon from 1-7 not the morning/afternoon I had been lead to believe. This was likely going to be just for the first week. I let Mme know this as it did affect the dining hour and she was understanding but felt that I should really talk to the school about it to have the schedule changed. She also let me know that there was a good library in town that I could spend my mornings studying at. Um, ok. Then what is the desk for in my room I thought to myself? I was getting the feeling that my room was for sleeping in only.
Did I mention that she had a lovely salon? A corner room with lovely views of the garden with the light streaming in? She did show it to me. But I was not invited to use it.
Dinner was served at 7:30 right when I got back from school. We had salad, left over pasta and some "yummy" prepackaged fish delicacy that is unique to Lyon and that she was very proud to serve. It smelled like fish, tasted like fish but I'm not entirely sure there was any fish in it. And chocolate pudding for dessert.
The next morning I was informed that as I come and go between rooms that I need to be sure to close the doors. I had been leaving my bedroom door open for the 3 minutes it took me to go to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Noted.
Clothes for washing were to be left for Saturday morning. But she did my laundry on Friday anyway. I was informed that I needed to turn my shirts inside out for her so that they wash better. I was missing 4 socks when the laundry was returned to me (neatly folded I might add). I found this quite amusing as apparently French laundry machines have the same appetite for socks as Canadian machines. When I tried to share the joke I was asked if I was sure that I had actually brought them with me from Canada. Um, yes. Yes I am sure I brought complete pairs of socks with me from Canada.
In my second week I caught a cold. Nothing horrible, just an annoying stuffy nose. As I had no kleenex in my room I used toilet paper. Works just the same. Two days later I was informed that I was not to use toilet paper for my nose. Kleenex was much better. I agreed and informed her that as I had no kleenex in my room that I was using toilet paper instead. No, this had to change. It was not her responsibility to provide kleenex for my nose. TP for my bum yes, but nothing for my drippy nose. I needed to buy this myself.
That was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Off I went to the school to ask for help to find another place to live. I still wanted to stay with a family, but I needed a less rigid place to live. Unfortunately, because of the length of my stay there were not a lot of opportunities that met my primary considerations, specifically, walking distance. The trams are great here, but I'm back and forth a lot and walking is way better. Especially with all the cheese I'm enjoying.
There were a couple of studios available within walking distance. This unfortunately meant I'd have to provide for myself (hence no French food to enjoy) and I'd loose the extra time speaking french with a family. However, my sanity was a priority.
Besides, I think I may have stretched a little thinking I could return to "dorm" life after so many years living independently.
In short, after 2 weeks in France, I decided to move.
So, on Saturday April 23rd I moved to a studio within town and not too far from where I was living originally. Boy oh boy, Mme was not happy when she found out. But it validated my hypothesis that the students she takes in are a way of supporting herself. Which explains why she works so hard to keep costs low. Wretched bread, chocolate pudding and no kleenex etc. To be honest, not a great situation for her I recognize, but she is unfortunately also short changing her guests on the French experience in the process.
As for my new studio? Well, it is frankly just a bedroom with a small kitchenette and a tiny bathroom. However:
- the family is awesome! Gracious, friendly and even offered to help me with my homework
- they invited me to join them for dinner the first night. DELICIOUS!!! OMG! Yummy! I must find a way to get invited back. :)
- the studio is at the back of the garden, in a stand alone building, so I'm truly independent. Because it is a courtyard set up, I'm completely shielded from any street noise
- there is AC!!!!!!
- There is a roof top terrace all for me, with a hammock!
- and the icing on the cake? A pet tortoise in the garden. Although, it took me two weeks to find him - he's pretty good at hiding. (note: for Jay, Dan and Penikett - insert "2 week" refrain here).
So after almost two full weeks here I am much happier and more relaxed. It is a bummer not being able to enjoy home cooked French meals but the restaurants in Montpellier are known for their food so I'm enjoying those instead. As for conversation, since they are so welcoming, I'm doing my best to use them instead of Google to find out stuff.
The moral of the story? Home is really important. For those of you have moved countries or cities or have done something similar to what I'm doing, you likely get this. I had to learn it. It is vital to one's well being to feel comfortable, safe and relaxed in the place they choose to call home.
During my first two weeks here I was "existing" in France. Now I feel like I'm "living" here.
Friday, April 22, 2016
Prendre un café
So coffee. It is different here. Not a surprise to anyone who has travelled in Europe.
Espresso exclusively. As a demi-tasse or you can get it allongé (bigger amount) or as a latté. Even in those bigger forms, it is still somewhat shorter than a "short" at Starbucks.
Yes it tastes marvellous. Rich, deep, complex flavours.
Always black. Sugar is optional.
What is an even bigger difference than simply the volume of coffee vs back home, is the whole ritual.
In North America it is about volume and about taking it to go. Coffee is something we do while doing something else. We drive, walk, work with it. Pick it up to go somewhere or bring it home.
For the French, it is truly a moment. If you want a coffee, you stop what you are doing. You walk to the café, you sit down with your friend(s). You chat, you order, it arrives. You enjoy the coffee and the conversation and then you pay, get up and go on with your day.
The ritual can be as quick as 10-15 minutes or as long as an hour if you want. Totally up to you. But it is very much about being in the moment. This moment is also enhanced by the environment. There are so many terraces facing green space or lovely squares with fountains. Lots of people walking around, you're separated from the traffic most of the time. These locals don't seem to exist, in Toronto anyway. We have very few big open terraces, squares etc in which to enjoy this moment.
The way we enjoy coffee in North America is a real commentary on our lives there. We are constantly on the go. Rushing from one thing to the other. Multi-tasking like crazy. How much of the moment are we missing?
Yes people sit in our coffee shops and enjoy their coffee, but they are the minority. Based on my experience the number of people that come in, get their coffee and go far outweighs those that stay.
At the end of the day, it is what it is and I appreciate the difference. What does stick with me though, is the true experience it is in France. In Canada it's a drink. In France, it's a moment in time.
Espresso exclusively. As a demi-tasse or you can get it allongé (bigger amount) or as a latté. Even in those bigger forms, it is still somewhat shorter than a "short" at Starbucks.
Yes it tastes marvellous. Rich, deep, complex flavours.
Always black. Sugar is optional.
What is an even bigger difference than simply the volume of coffee vs back home, is the whole ritual.
In North America it is about volume and about taking it to go. Coffee is something we do while doing something else. We drive, walk, work with it. Pick it up to go somewhere or bring it home.
For the French, it is truly a moment. If you want a coffee, you stop what you are doing. You walk to the café, you sit down with your friend(s). You chat, you order, it arrives. You enjoy the coffee and the conversation and then you pay, get up and go on with your day.
The ritual can be as quick as 10-15 minutes or as long as an hour if you want. Totally up to you. But it is very much about being in the moment. This moment is also enhanced by the environment. There are so many terraces facing green space or lovely squares with fountains. Lots of people walking around, you're separated from the traffic most of the time. These locals don't seem to exist, in Toronto anyway. We have very few big open terraces, squares etc in which to enjoy this moment.
The way we enjoy coffee in North America is a real commentary on our lives there. We are constantly on the go. Rushing from one thing to the other. Multi-tasking like crazy. How much of the moment are we missing?
Yes people sit in our coffee shops and enjoy their coffee, but they are the minority. Based on my experience the number of people that come in, get their coffee and go far outweighs those that stay.
At the end of the day, it is what it is and I appreciate the difference. What does stick with me though, is the true experience it is in France. In Canada it's a drink. In France, it's a moment in time.
Sunday, April 17, 2016
Small windows on the top floor
On my first day of school here in Montpellier, they took us on a quick tour of the town to get our bearings. These tours are generally pretty good at giving you some nice little tidbits that you wouldn't ordinarily get just by walking around with a tour book.
One of this tidbit had to do with the lives of the rich and famous, or precisely their staff. For those of you that have toured France, enjoying the marvellous architecture, did you ever notice the small windows at the top of the buildings?
Servant quarters.
Yes, the owners of those homes enjoyed grand staircases, massive lobbies, high ceilings and brilliant windows and terraces. However, the staff had to be seen and heard as little as possible.
To accomplish that, much was done to hide them. In Louis the XIV's case, the staff were had their own hallways that ran between the walls of the rooms to access the entire of Versailles unseen. Much like the secret interior halls of hotels now.
In the case of the larger mansions in France, the servants were kept up top, just under the roof, in what we now use as an attic. Enough room to stand, barely, where it was cold in winter and hot in summer.
If you look at my snap below, you can seen the grand windows of each salon and at the very top, the little windows where the staff staid. I've also included a picture of the grand staircase that the owners of a mansion would enjoy. The staff had their own, separate, much less grand staircase to get up and down on.
The Goodbye Party
So on April 2nd, days before my departure, Dan organized a goodbye party for me.
It was wonderful!
Dan knows me so well, it is a real blessing. I would never throw a party for myself. I feel it is far too self serving. But, if I didn't celebrate this adventure, it would leave a small gap. Sort of a catch 22. Yes, I'm crazy. And Dan knows that - another blessing because he's still here in spite of my zaniness.
Dan put so much effort into it. Organizing a location, creeping facebook to ensure he captured as many people as possible to let them know about it, decorating, ordering food, sorting music etc.
I was blown away by how many people came out to celebrate with me. Dan's family came in from Hamilton, his nephew even flew in from Calgary. I was so touched! We even did a shot! (a very non-Kopke thing to do).
My brother and sisters of course came in, but they sort of have too. It's part of the contract. :)
So many of my friends! And Dan's friends! Far and wide you all came in to see me (and him of course). Even his work family!
THANK YOU!!!!
Honestly, the room that he had booked for exclusive use for this party was packed. It was truly memorable. I felt like the Belle of the Ball.
I tried to get around to speak to everyone, but for sure I missed some of you. I'm sorry about that, but please know from the bottom of my heart how much I appreciated it. Even the emails and cards I got from people that couldn't be there was so thoughtful.
To see the effort that you all made......well, it just made such an impact.
MERCI! Je vous remercie beaucoup!
It was wonderful!
Dan knows me so well, it is a real blessing. I would never throw a party for myself. I feel it is far too self serving. But, if I didn't celebrate this adventure, it would leave a small gap. Sort of a catch 22. Yes, I'm crazy. And Dan knows that - another blessing because he's still here in spite of my zaniness.
Dan put so much effort into it. Organizing a location, creeping facebook to ensure he captured as many people as possible to let them know about it, decorating, ordering food, sorting music etc.
I was blown away by how many people came out to celebrate with me. Dan's family came in from Hamilton, his nephew even flew in from Calgary. I was so touched! We even did a shot! (a very non-Kopke thing to do).
My brother and sisters of course came in, but they sort of have too. It's part of the contract. :)
So many of my friends! And Dan's friends! Far and wide you all came in to see me (and him of course). Even his work family!
THANK YOU!!!!
Honestly, the room that he had booked for exclusive use for this party was packed. It was truly memorable. I felt like the Belle of the Ball.
I tried to get around to speak to everyone, but for sure I missed some of you. I'm sorry about that, but please know from the bottom of my heart how much I appreciated it. Even the emails and cards I got from people that couldn't be there was so thoughtful.
To see the effort that you all made......well, it just made such an impact.
MERCI! Je vous remercie beaucoup!
My first day in Montpellier (April 7, 2016)
This is a quick snap shot of my flight over and arrival in Montpellier.
Overnight flight on AC to Paris. Only half the plane was occupied which meant that I manage to grab a row to myself and could stretch out to "sleep". I'm pretty sure I didn't really sleep, more like lay there for a few hours with my eyes closed. But it was better than nothing as I arrived in Paris at 8:45 in the morning, not feeling like a zombie.
My flight to Montpellier wasn't scheduled until 12:45pm so I had time and made my way to the domestic terminal. The. Longerst. Walk. Ever. Good grief that was far and made worse due to one stubborn wheel on my luggage which meant I was half dragging, vs rolling my suitcase.
Interestingly, half way to the terminal I came across a wall of people. Stopped by security as they had cleared a section of the departure lounge as there was an unattended bag. That was a bit unnerving. Turned out someone had clearly purchased something last minute, from Gucci of all places, and clearly decided to wear there purchase instead of pack it or carry it on. so they left the large shopping bag, full of all kinds of garbage, in the departures area instead of throwing it out. Seriously? What do people think?
Once in the domestics terminal, it was a whole lot of sitting around. But I did finally get to enjoy my first French coffee. un café avec du lait. Or a latte. 4.50 Euros for what would be a "short" latte at Starbucks. I'll never complain about "5-bucks" again. But it was good.
Quick flight to Montpellier. Cab ride to the apartment I had booked on Airbnb and I was officially hear.
The apartment was quite cute, clean, tidy and well organized. It was a great reminder of the last time I was here in France.
All the old apartments have a main door that leads from the street. The door opens on a long dark hallway that leads to the staircase that takes you up. The first thing you need to do is find the light switch which turns on the lights in the hallway and stairwell. It is timed and will go off after a few minutes.
You then climb the staircase, round and round you go. At each floor you come across multiple doors that lead to each apartment on each floor. In my case it was three. Once you find your apartment, in you go.
Once inside I find myself in an apartment that essentially radiates out to a french balcony and the only source of direct light. The apartment has other sources of natural light, but these come from light wells. Remember, these buildings were built hundreds of years ago and this was the way of getting natural light into the interior of buildings. In the modern era, as these buildings were upgraded to provide for our new needs, like bathrooms etc, this is also how plumbing was brought in. You can see in the picture I provided how all the drains run up and down to each unit, on the exterior of the walls, but inside these light wells. These light wells also provide me with my first introduction to new grammar. They are called simply, puits de lumière (light wells).
Overnight flight on AC to Paris. Only half the plane was occupied which meant that I manage to grab a row to myself and could stretch out to "sleep". I'm pretty sure I didn't really sleep, more like lay there for a few hours with my eyes closed. But it was better than nothing as I arrived in Paris at 8:45 in the morning, not feeling like a zombie.
My flight to Montpellier wasn't scheduled until 12:45pm so I had time and made my way to the domestic terminal. The. Longerst. Walk. Ever. Good grief that was far and made worse due to one stubborn wheel on my luggage which meant I was half dragging, vs rolling my suitcase.
Interestingly, half way to the terminal I came across a wall of people. Stopped by security as they had cleared a section of the departure lounge as there was an unattended bag. That was a bit unnerving. Turned out someone had clearly purchased something last minute, from Gucci of all places, and clearly decided to wear there purchase instead of pack it or carry it on. so they left the large shopping bag, full of all kinds of garbage, in the departures area instead of throwing it out. Seriously? What do people think?
Once in the domestics terminal, it was a whole lot of sitting around. But I did finally get to enjoy my first French coffee. un café avec du lait. Or a latte. 4.50 Euros for what would be a "short" latte at Starbucks. I'll never complain about "5-bucks" again. But it was good.
Quick flight to Montpellier. Cab ride to the apartment I had booked on Airbnb and I was officially hear.
The apartment was quite cute, clean, tidy and well organized. It was a great reminder of the last time I was here in France.
All the old apartments have a main door that leads from the street. The door opens on a long dark hallway that leads to the staircase that takes you up. The first thing you need to do is find the light switch which turns on the lights in the hallway and stairwell. It is timed and will go off after a few minutes.
You then climb the staircase, round and round you go. At each floor you come across multiple doors that lead to each apartment on each floor. In my case it was three. Once you find your apartment, in you go.
Once inside I find myself in an apartment that essentially radiates out to a french balcony and the only source of direct light. The apartment has other sources of natural light, but these come from light wells. Remember, these buildings were built hundreds of years ago and this was the way of getting natural light into the interior of buildings. In the modern era, as these buildings were upgraded to provide for our new needs, like bathrooms etc, this is also how plumbing was brought in. You can see in the picture I provided how all the drains run up and down to each unit, on the exterior of the walls, but inside these light wells. These light wells also provide me with my first introduction to new grammar. They are called simply, puits de lumière (light wells).
Friday, April 8, 2016
Introduction
So I'm here. Six months in Montpellier studying French. Here I will do my best to keep a record with words and photos. I must admit that I will being doing this in English, but I must endeavour to do it in French also at some point. All part of the total immersion objective.
Montpellier, France
Montpellier, France
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