I’m so tired but holy crap! Fantastic!
Day Thirty-Seven, 🎶Borderline(s)
Day Thirty-Six, Bordering Bordeaux
I’ve been riding since 4:30pm Paris time (10:30 AM East Tennessee time). The outlet under my seat doesn’t work with either plugin or USB which, on a 31 hour bus trip is really bad. The drivers switch off every few hours working in tandem. I accidentally booked an express trip! Woot!
Tomorrow I’m going to message my host who will meet me at the dock. Dudes, this is so top hat! I’m already feeling pinky’s up bitches. Fancy and all that.
Pass it onward!
Day Thirty-Six, Press Start
I’m sitting on the FlixBus in Caen. My cumbersome luggage is loaded under my butt. I feel a complexity of emotions.
I’m excited to see what happens next. I’ve been to Paris, so that part doesn’t feel anything but familiar. I’m not sure if that’s what I mean exactly but it’s close. After Paris, then the fun/fear/excitement/unknown begins.
Truthfully, I’m intimidated by that unknown. More so than when I first arrived. Maybe because it was a rather spontaneous choice to change everything I’d planned at the last minute. Perhaps it’s because the summation of my experience has been a working trip.
I don’t have to work. I don’t have obligations. I’m doing this for me. It feels selfish. It feels uncomfortable. It feels unsafe. But it’s also exhilarating because it’s not something I normally would do. It’s adventure and exploration. It’s new.
I’ll let you know what happens as I leave Caen and head into the rest of my life.
May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved!
Pass it onward!
Day Thirty Five, Champagne Farewell
I spend time with my client and his family today. It’s the last time I’ll get to see them until they return stateside in December. When I first arrived in the middle of September, it was because of them that I took a chance and stepped outside of my comfort zone. WAY outside.
My client and I exercised his body. I chattered on about things that I’m learning or figuring out. He’s pretty quiet, but he surprises me with how much he pays attention. It was a blustery day. Chilly, windy, rainy. The day seemed sad. I felt sad.
I fall in love with my clients in a non-romantic way. It allows me to give grace, feel compassion, and evoke empathy even when things are a challenge. I absolutely adore this family. Truly it has been an honor to work with them for three years and many into the future, (As Miss Pat would say:) God willing and the creek don’t rise.
We drank real champagne from the real Champagne region in France. It wasn’t quite how I envisioned it, but sharing it with people I adore and love made it all the better. They’re just incredible people.
This evening I’m packing up all my stuff to leave for Lisbon, Portugal tomorrow. I’ll be taking a bus (31 hours…don’t even) to Paris, then on to Lisbon. I’ll arrive Friday at around noon (Insert Miss Pat quote here).
I have felt such a raw presence of myself here. My eyes are open, my ears are hearing, my mouth is tasting, my senses are satisfied with my stay here. I’ve seen everything (but one) that I’ve wanted to see. I’ve made no friends which I’m okay with. I love the people here.
Au Revoir to my French Experience.
I knew that if I failed in France, I had the safety net of my clients to call on if I got in over my head. I didn’t, but knowing it was there was reassuring. The training wheels come off tomorrow and I’ll be striking out on my own to explore. I’m lollygagging, farting around, procrastinating even though I should be packing.
Okay, deep breath. Let’s do this, Mare.
May peace be with you wherever you may be. You are loved!
Pass it onward!
Day Thirty-Four, Get Out of Dodge
I had a couple of small errands to run. Nothing major, but they hardly took up any time. I had to kill some time because they were showing the efficiency apartment today. Instead of going to the right when I exit the building, I went to the left. Like the bear who went over the mountain, to see what I could see.
Nico’s Pizza caught my eye. I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet and I was feeling a might bit peckish. Luckily the server spoke English and was able to help me read the menu. I got a pizza I’d never seen before and an Orangina drink. Those are really popular here and served nearly everywhere I’ve been.
I decided I wanted to rent a bike and toodle around town. I did a Twisto search and discovered where the nearest Velo park was located. As it turns out, it’s right next to the Monoprix I told you about. Trusty translator in hand, I read the screen, follow the prompts and I’m rejected. Uh…I redid the process using another option but it timed me out. I popped around the corner to the Twisto office and spoke with a nice woman behind an official looking desk.
There are two options for renting a bike. One is that you pay 24 Euros for a year subscription which included one hour free. Then it’s 1 Euro per hour of use (an electric assisted bike). Or, you can use your phone and rent a bike for 1 Euro an hour which rings up at the end of each hour. She encouraged me to use my phone. So I went back to the kiosk to try again. Rejected.
Back I went to the office, a random dude acted as a translator for me and explained what happened. You have to have a phone number in France, Belgium, or Germany (I think?). If you don’t have any of those, you can’t rent a bike. Abuh. What a poop. BUT!
Ever the resourceful, I opted to explore on the bus. Since I was at the main terminal, the options were wide open. I was talking to my friend Jen. I told her to pick a number. She chose the number 9. Okay, I say, that’s the bus I’ll take to see where it goes.
I made a quick trip across the courtyard but made a stop so you could see this:
While I was waiting for the bus there were several pigeons pecking or strutting around on the sidewalk. This particular bird had no feet. Little nubs is all this poor, pretty, little thing was keeping mobile.
I got on at the Theatre Quai 3 heading towards Colombelles Mairie. I had no idea what was at the end of the line, but that’s nothing new!
It took roughly a half hour to travel to Colombelles. There was rather heavy traffic at times. The neighborhoods appeared to be comfortable middle class with yards. One thing I really dig about this city is that they use hedges for privacy instead of privacy fences. It really does look more tidy. Very few of the bushy guardians are in disarray. The sidewalks are in excellent condition with some even having a paved biking path!
I’ve made the observation before, but the French take their hair very seriously. Everywhere I’ve gone there have been multiple choices to get your hair did. I am a wash and go type of human, so this obsession with ones crown is rather puzzling to me.
Arriving at the end of the line was a small shopping center sort of like Grove Center in Oak Ridge, TN. It was a bit worn but not in disrepair. Nothing I saw really interested me so I kept walking. I stopped in a mini-mart and got a Perrier because I’m fancy like that. I didn’t open it right away because I’m not very graceful when I’m in unfamiliar territory. I tend to be looking around a lot instead of looking where I’m going.
The road I took had neat houses on one side and a line of mostly closed shops on the other, the side I was walking on. Except the beauty shoppes and the barbers, nothing else seemed to be open. It gave me the feeling of a line from a John Denver song that sings “They roll back the sidewalks, precisely at ten” only this was five in the late afternoon.
I saw a lot of parental figures with young ones scattering around their hips in excited jumping and energetic exclamations. It made me smile as group after group passed me by with a greeting of Bon Soir.
At the end of the sidewalk, there was a roundabout. The view I could see was really something. It was around 60 degrees with a light wind. There was a pergola with a bench tucked off to the side. I sat down on it and opened my beverage.
As I was watching the world go by, enjoying refreshment, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I’ve lived by myself long enough that I really enjoy being with myself. I was heavily engrossed in the moment. Each tingle on my tongue as I drank was a sparkle of now. The breeze carried the Autumn on its coat tails. It was the moment of pure happiness.
It’s hard for me to wrap my mind around the fact that I’m actually here. Obviously by the posts I’ve been making, I am. But I never imagined in my lifetime an experience like this one. True, I have my client to take care of, but that’s coming to an end until they return to the States.
Lisbon is going to be all solo. No safety net just jump in and see what happens. I want so badly to tell you what I’ve got planned to do while I’m there, but I’ll let you come along for the ride with me instead.
OH! And although there is wifi on the bus, I don’t know that I’ll be able to do post updates on Thursday evening. I’m hoping, but this trip has been known to change direction for no good reason other than it can.
May peace be with you wherever you are and wherever you go. You are loved!
Pass it onward!
Day Thirty-Three, Bonus post
As I was walking towards my work today from the bus stop, my client’s wife asked me if I’d like a ride. Sure! I happened to be standing at the end of the sidewalk under a tall willow tree. She said she was on her way. I waited but while I did, I contemplated the huge tree reveling in the wind. I wrote this as a record of my thoughts:
The willow isn't weeping it is exuberant with joy Draped tendrils gossip with the giggling zephyrs sharing lusty, gusty secrets. Complicated communication through a seeminly intricate dance a bough there, a swirling circle of leaves, a historical echo in contemporary moments. MM 2023
Pass it onward!
Day Thirty-Three, An answer
Back on day Twenty-Seven I told you about a course I was taking through Going With Grace called The Living Practice. Each day you’re given something to think about, write about, and enrich your living experience by thinking about your death.
Yes, I know that sounds counter-intuitive, but it really isn’t. Every day you do things, whether you realize it or not, you’re building your legacy. Your life is your message to others about what kind of a person you are externally, and to some extent even to yourself. But the juicy part, as Alua Arthur, founder of Going With Grace, likes to say, is that who you think you are may not actually be who you are.
We all have to go through the every day life stuff. We have to survive. We have to pay bills. We make time for social interaction or hobbies or adventure. But, who are we really? Without anything external, who are you?
I’m still pondering that one, but the question I’ve come to the answer for is:
Who or what was your most impactful death?
Of all the people I have loved and lost in this lifetime (part of the reason I became a Death Doula), the most impactful death would have to be my best friend L3 aka Bean. I lived with her and she with me for the majority of our adult lives. She was so freaking quirky, weird, and resentful of being pulled out of her comfort zone. A little secret I never told her, she MADE me braver than I felt.
I was friends with her for 37 years. She and I fought, laughed, created, sang, played, roadtripped, went to concerts, went on vacations together. She was my secret keeper. She was the fastest typer I’ve ever seen. I think they clocked her at like 125 wpm without errors. She was happier in a world of fantasy than in real life where disappointments followed her around like a rabid dog.
When she died, I got fucked up in the head. The person who was always there was gone. Who did that make me then? It took me about five years before I could think of her without crying or feeling devastatingly sad. Which, when you love someone like I loved her and know that you’re loved back, that loss is going to do exactly that.
Okay, so why was it the most impactful? I was 49, she was a month past 50 when she died. I suppose it’s a trick of my own disbelief or even a naivete’ but who the freak dies at 50? I was looking down that barrel myself and it freaked me out.
It made me really look at my life. I was unhappy. I was deeply depressed. I was so ridden with anxiety I couldn’t handle even missing a bus. Did I want to live the rest of my life like that? What could I change to make my life a better place to live?
She was the most impactful because I decided I wanted to live after she died. I mean live like we had intended to do together. She made me braver than I ever thought possible. She gave me the gift of life by leaving hers.
And now, here I am in freaking France getting ready to head to Portugal. The things I’ve seen would have made her laugh. The food would have blown her mind. The atmosphere would be right up her alley. She, although not physically, is still with me. She’s still here next to me,
(Well technically around my neck since I wear some of her ashes always) cheering me on to the best life I can live, for the both of us.
May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved!
Pass it onward!
Day Thirty-Two, Change of Plans
Since February I’ve had a plan in place for September and October. I was going to fly into Paris and stay a couple of days. (check) Then take public transportation to Caen, Normandie, France. (check) I planned on staying in one place for September them move to another for the month of October. (check) Then I was going to stay in my client’s home while they went to Morocco. (Uh…) Well that was a bust, so I made reservations for another place in Caen. But…
If I’m not going to be working, why should I stay in one place? I started looking around. I checked out Brussels, Belgium. I looked at Geneva, Switzerland. I checked out The Hague in the Netherlands. But, they are rather cost prohibitive last minute. Then I thought about Barcelona, Spain. Again cost prohibitive.
I have a friend that housesits on the west coast of the U.S. and in Portugal. She’s told me so many good stories about her journeys that I started looking towards Lisbon.
Okay, so a bus goes from Caen to Lisbon via a route through Paris. As it turns out, it’s the same bus I would have used to get to Paris for my flight home.
Well, can my flight be changed from Paris to Lisbon? Why yes, yes it can. Okay, but can I find an affordable place to stay in Lisbon?
Yes indeed. Did you know that you can search for OMG places on airbnb.com? As it turns out there is a hobbit house you can rent, but I couldn’t figure out how to get to the affordable place because it was not very close to Lisbon.
What I did find was a boat. Like a real live boat. It is located near Lisbon, close to public transportation, and it’s affordable.
I rearranged everything, canceled, reworked, submitted, and dudes, I’m going to Lisbon, Portugal! I figure I’m never going to have this opportunity again and if I didn’t do it, I’d kick my own ass for being anxiety-ridden enough to maintain.
Courage is feeling the fear and doing it anyway. No guts, no glory. It’s my intellectual way of saying, “Hey ya’ll, watch this.” We’ll find out what happens.
Downside, the bus trip is like 32 hours. Bonus, I’ll be traveling through a lot of France, across Spain, and into Portugal. Did I forget to mention that some friends from ORUUC, my church back in Tennessee, moved to Portugal last December? OH! AND! They happen to live in the same neighborhood as the hobbit house. Maybe I’ll get lucky and get to see it, but I KNOW I’ll be lucky enough to see them,
We’re already in talks for me to train down to them and spend a couple days. Dudes, the world is a beautiful place.
May peace be with you wherever you are. You are loved!
Pass it onward!
Day Thirty-One
I did laundry and slept. Right now I’m trying to figure out how brave I am. The post is short because of my uncertainty.
Pass it onward!
Day Thirty, Bonus post
As I was going about my day, I had thoughts that I jotted down because they resonated with my sensibilities. If they don’t yours, that’s okay.
- Know what you want and make it happen.
- Fall in love with everything always, every day.
- Don’t forget to look up to the falling leaves. Their promises have already been met.
- Keep moving, even if it’s a sidestep. (Miss Marge used to tell me that was the secret to a long life, keep moving. I added the sidestep because I’m prone to misadventures and being lost).
- Desire paths are not always according to the plans of the well intentioned.
This is a quote I read today in an article about “Desire paths.”
“You’ve just taken a “desire path,” described by Robert Macfarlane as “paths & tracks made over time by the wishes & feet of walkers, especially those…that run contrary to design or planning”; he calls them “free-will ways.” Robert Moor offers other terms, such as ‘cow paths,’ ‘pirate paths,’ ‘social trails,’ ‘kemonomichi (beast trails),’ ‘chemins de l’ane (donkey paths)’, and ‘Olifantenpad (elephant trails).’ JM Barrie described them as ‘Paths that have made themselves.’
Mare Martell 