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.
This tastes almost like a sparkling orange juice.This pizza was fantastic! I don’t know what the green stuff is, but it was delicious. There is ham under the greens. That big white ball in the middle is a type of cheese similar to mozzarella but creamier. The green dots on the top of that seems to be an herb of some type, It was absolutely stellar. I ended up taking more than half of it home.
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:
Your guess is as good as mine. It looks like a fancy men’s dress shoe. I wonder what story is behind its placement.
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 named her Peggy.
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!
I have difficulties sleeping. The last few nights have, even without coffee, been a practice in very late nights very early mornings. The challenge of the realtor visits is that I don’t want to be here when they are. I can’t contribute anything to the conversation, the place is too small for multiple people, and I just know that the “perfect” me would notice things “Real Me” had not. Best to get out of dodge and go see the world.
This morning? Last night? It was around 6AM when I finally fell asleep. Although I’m exercising a lot more and drinking less coffee than I would at home, I’m struggling. I was in a deep, warm, comfortable sleep when loudspeaker’s loud chanting voices woke me up. The music was upbeat and sincere. The chanting voices were raised in protest against something. The only word I could make out was Pourquoi (Why).
I willed them to continue on their way, but they stopped right under my tiny window, played two songs, marched on with a trail of equally loud chanting. I’d been asleep for 4 1/2 hours. Ugh.
I checked the time and my messages. The realtor wanted to make a visit today and tomorrow according to the host. I really don’t like feeling displaced by something I wasn’t aware of when I booked this place. Meh. I asked if they could do both visits tomorrow instead. Nope. Both visits would be today but none for tomorrow. Hooray!
I looked up the department of tourism for Caen, Normandie, France. The website was in both English and French which was great, but one of the events I was interested in (A Science exhibition at the Universitie de Normandie) didn’t have an address. It had a great write up, which is why I became interested, but the address was the name of a road.
I attempted to call but the woman who answered the phone didn’t understand or speak English. She managed to request I call back in five minutes. I told her yes. I waited. At the appointed time, I made another call. Nope. Same woman. Two minutes more please. (What I actually understood was: Sorry, Two, Please.
I felt a bit deterred, but Dude’s I’m in their country, I should at least have a rudimentary grasp on the language. Baby words is how I describe the knowledge I have. It’s been a handicap but not a disability.
I was able to gleen that the Science Exhibition was taking place on Campus 2. Hey! I know that the tram goes there. I did a Twisto search and Voila! I got dressed, put on a sweater today (22 mph winds all day with spotty rain), and went to the tram station.
The tram was clean although a bit crowded. It was lunch time so there is a transitional period. As each stop was announced, I started to feel a bit anxious. Would what I’m looking to do be where I think it is? What if I got it wrong? What if it’s a different stop? The inner dialogue can get noisy.
Abide, Dude. You’re killing time anyway, what difference does it make when you get to somewhere you don’t know where? Eat when you’re hungry, drink when you’re thirsty, rest when you need to, but keep abiding. That’s what I kept telling myself and it helped me slow my roll(s).
The end of the line, route termine’. I exited the tram in the rush of students. They were heading generally in the same direction. I can see how people end up in a crowd mentality. It felt like I could hear the collective saying, “We know where we’re going. Follow us.” Obediently, I cautiously followed.
AHA! On the ground in red spray-painted letters, Science Exhibition this way! My confidence leapt forward. I was really going to find it! As the crowd broke off in different directions, I found another sign on the sidewalk pointing me on the path. The wind was wickedly blowing, a might bit of a sprinkle, but not drenching. I reached a fork in the path. I took a guess and kept moving forward. I walked around a large bush and I saw the sign!
I took a picture of the map. I used Google’s translator lens to figure out what I was looking at, and moseyed towards the first building on the map. I have learned that Pousser (POO-say) means push and tirer means pull. Sortie is the exit. I was feeling quite proud and confident at this point. That is until I couldn’t understand anything.
Okay, it’s science. Not my forte as a rule although interesting enough to rabbit-hole me at times. But, I was lost. There were no visual clues to what was being discussed. There was a lecturer and a crowd of teenagers mostly listening. I tried to pick out words I know, but no dice. I exited feeling less confident but more curious.
The map said that the different departments were represented by color code but as I observed my surroundings, I came to understand that the map was upside down from my perspective. I went in search of the symbol I understood. Music. It was marked in teal on the map. I came to the courtyard where there was another map showing my changed location, but this one wasn’t upside down from my perspective.
There was an information booth in the center. I asked for directions to the music. Turns out that the concert isn’t until Sunday night. Although I was allowed to experience the exhibits, be aware they’re all in French and today (Friday the 13th) was primarily directed at school aged children. Lucky me! I speak baby word French, so no problem.
I found a cafe inside a building labeled simply SCIENCE. Sounds legit. My curiousity grew as the displays in this particular building were more tangible, more hands on, more engaging. I decided to try again.
I learned that the large black dome-like structure was actually an inflatable planetarium! How freaking cool! Then I found a sandbox display to demonstrate erosion. That turned into a conversation with a knowledgable young man with dark curly hair and brown eyes. I spent the most time with him learning about the ecological effects heavy agriculture does to the environment.
Then he showed me the display next to his which deals in exponential micro-plastics. I can’t remember the name of the effect he told me (a couple times actually), but it’s like…if a fish eats one piece of micro-plastic, it could be okay. But the heron that eats that and 9 other fish is going to have 10 micro-plastics. The bear loves herons and eats 10. That’s 100 micro-plastics. It just keeps getting more and more. This is an extremely simplified version of what I was told, but the more we talked, the more concerned I grew.
SIDENOTE: I read a short article today about how the ecology of the planet has declined with as much as 73% of wildlife being driven from their homes, or eradicated all together. Roadtrips when I was a kid meant we had to stop relatively often to clean the bug butts off the windshield. As I’ve grown into the world around me, it occurred to me that I haven’t had to clean my windshield very much at all. I mean, their bugs, who cares? But bugs are food for other useful species, a necessity to the world.
With what I learned and that trivial bit of knowledge, I was feeling guilty that I contribute so heavily (although not as bad as I used to be) to the decay of our precious planet. But, I did manage to download the DIY plans for a micro-plastics filter for washing machines. Basically, it acts like the lint screen in a dryer works, only it captures the offending plastics that come off our clothing without our knowledge. I’ll see if I can figure out how to give you the link since I got it from a QR code. Does it work on American washers? I don’t know. I’ll have to make one and see.
Okay, exit soapbox. Thank you for indulging me.
I found several other tangible activities that I could understand and follow. It became intriguing to understand. A challenge that I met to my satisfaction. My confidence returned.
As I left the exhibition, the rain was coming down at a pretty good clip, the wind was blowing the trees so hard, they were bending and bowing in protest. I found my way back to the tram and rode back to Rue Saint-Jean. It was a great afternoon and I’m glad I did it.
Peace be with you wherever you are. You are loved!
I know! I’ve been sharing with you all these wonderful places. When I went to the Chateau de Caen, there was just so much to see and share. This will be the third and final installment of what I’ve already done.
The white building
is where they held banquets and meetings.
It smells like age, it felt hallowed, it had bird
poop everywhere as well as their feathers.
The meeting hall is where they gathered. The stained glass window faced towards the East. The broken picture with the walls showing could feel the age it held. Even though much of the buildings that I’ve been showing you were destroyed by the bombings that took place in 1944-ish, they’ve been lovingly restored.
Why all the pictures of the floor? Because they weren’t just stone floors. They were carefully crafted of 3″x3″ squares with the brown broken up by the blue/green/and white mosaic tiles. I was impressed with the technique and the style. In addition, I could sense the thousands of people who walked those very floors whether they be nobility or a janitor. It’s an inanimate building, but I imagined the stories the history could tell if it were explained by the people who lived, worked, met, and played there.
The building on the lower left is the Meeting Hall. This picture was taken as I stepped up onto the castle wall to walk about and see the “world” layed at my feet. I wondered, since this is one of the larger palaces, what it must have felt like to keep watch from here. Pacing back and forth, ever keen for noises or visual changes in the landscape.
Gratuitous flowers for you.Growing because they Caen.13th century courtyard
A bit of a confession. When I exited the Meeting Hall, I went to the right. I saw a path that led up a hill to the castle wall. I really got excited to walk about the place, but instead I ended up at the wall, not a place to walk it. As I wandered back down to find the right way to get where I wanted to go, I snapped these shots to give you a bit more observational points of view.
From this opening in the wall:I saw this…and this…and this…and this. Wow!
I’m not exaggerating when I tell you I couldn’t breathe at first. After having seen pictures at the Musee de Normandie several days ago, the destruction that was brought on this city was painful to witness. But like a true warrior champion, thriving despite the terrors it’s endured, I felt the resilience of the people throbbing with life. I didn’t expect to feel emotional. Curious, yes, but to feel the collective breath of humanity pulsing was phenomenal.
An archer’s window.The view from the archer’s window.
These pictures are of a keep being excavated. It dates back to the 11th century in some places. The round building is one of the corners. Around that is a freaking moat! I wonder if it were filled by the canal that used to run in front of the nearby church of Saint Peter.
Overlooking the recovered walls of the keep, I looked over and saw a gully like space. When I looked over the edge, to my delight there were sheep munching on grass, doing sheep things. SQUEE!As I was getting ready to leave, I saw this cannon lined up with a place from which it could possibly have fired from long ago. There had, at one time, been stairs allowing people to get closer, but I’m going to guess this had to be idiot-proofed.
All that and a bag of chips, eh? That concludes my visit to the Chateau de Caen, former palace of William the Conqueror. I’m glad that it’s taken me a few days to get through all the pictures I took because it’s allowed me to reflect instead of react.
Thursday, the twenty-ninth.
The place where I’ve set up shop until the 20th is for sale. They call it a condo, I would call it an efficiency apartment. For a person who travels a lot or who spends a lot of time at work/play, this is an ideal place for one person to crash. Live…I don’t know. It’s functional.
Because of the circumstances, a realtor has been bringing people by to view the place. Monday and today I’ve had to make myself scarce so they could show it uninterrupted. I’m totally okay with that. In a way, because the place is small and gets untidy if you turn around, it’s holding me responsible for maintaining a cleaner environment than I would back home.
My house in Tennessee is pretty much my studio so there are a variety of projects in various stages of progress in my organized mess. My cat is a furball so I vacuum more frequently that I like, but he’s a cute asshole of a furball.
ANYWAY!
I went in search of art supplies. I’m jonesing really bad for a fix of some paint on my hands. I tried looking up art stores and art supply stores but got housewares and home decorating shops. I thought a bit and tried looking for craft stores. TADA! I found one. Address in hand, I used my Twisto app to navigate. What do you know? Not only did Line 1 go where I wanted to be, BUT the stop was a half a block away! I did the tidy up of apartment and of myself, dressed (because nudity is not acceptable as a rule) and headed out to kill some time.
The ride was very city view. Twisto warned of protests in the city center of Caen that were possible disruptive of the bus service, although I didn’t notice delays. I rode to the end of the line.
Color me so very American because I was perplexed at what I was seeing. I even asked the conducteur if I was at the right place. He assured me I really was at the mall. I didn’t think to get a picture because I’ve never seen anything like it.
Think, strip mall made up of big name box stores (each with a separate entrance but not connected inside), surrounding a more American version of mall familiar? The mall was made up of a variety of shops and boutiques like what I’m used to. I visited a shop called “Normal” because…
Have you ever seen the videos of sheep being put through a chute to get sheered? That’s pretty much how this store was set up. A guided maze with products in white wooden sectionals towards the inside of the store, the walls holding shelves of products. The shop primarily sold toiletry items. Colognes, face masks, makeup, cleansers, bodywash, razors, lotions, etc. There were some things that didn’t seem quite right in the Normal store, but it wasn’t a bad experience.
Food courts weren’t a thing. It had casual dining places around the periphery of the mall proper. There wasn’t a central place where you could pick and choose from a variety of gluttonous gorging.
There are a LOT of hair salons in this town and in the mall. There are also a large number of lingerie stores. Side note relevance: Along Clinton Highway (25W) from inside Clinton (TN) all the way down to I-40 (near Knoxville) there are a ridiculous number of car dealerships both old and new. FINANCE HERE! is a common hawk. In comparison, there are as many hair salons here as car dealerships there.
Having walked the circle, returning to my entry point, I stepped back outside. I went to the left (East I think) where I found another store.
Context: I left my apartment at 1PM (7AM East Tennessee time). I didn’t get back until 7PM (1PM East Tennessee time).
I went into every freaking store they had. Turns out, I wasn’t at the right place for the craft stores. I popped (typoed and wrote that pooped) back on the bus which took me to a place called Mondevillage.
It was like a shopping community. An outdoor mall, per se. The middle of the complex had an island shopping area with a variety of restaurants, chocolate shops, toilets, and a security office. That island had a bus stop on each side of it, but each side was one-way. The next layer was parking lot broken up by color. Example: You parked in Rose 3 or in Aqua 4. It’s a much better system than the parking lot marking in American malls. You parked in…G7? H6?
There it was. The craft store. It had a list of things it contained. I could pick out beaux art, musical instruments, books, and a couple of other things. I felt proud of myself that I could recognize the names of things even though they were spelled out in French.
I entered the store and felt a bit confused because it was similar in style to say…Books-A-Million or a single story Barnes and Noble. Undaunted by the books I couldn’t read, I checked out a few things, browsing about.
Next I found the musical instruments section. It wasn’t as flashy as Guitar World, but there was enough to do basic instrumentation. I plugged on.
Need a planner? Agenda books lined shelf after shelf. I like the idea of making an agenda better than a day planner. It sounds more like you’ll get something done instead of writing it down hoping to cross things off a list you planned to do.
Next came a beginning art section. I didn’t realize it was beginner. Dude, I can’t read French as well as I’d like! But, I found a small set of paints, a small set of brushes, some graphite pencils, a small sharpener, and a gum eraser. The paper they had was in envelopes, not books or pads. I searched through, looking at the pictures that showed what the paper could be used for. I couldn’t find any that would work with gouche. I asked and was shown the correct paper to purchase. Hot diggety!
CHRISTMAS doesn’t come just once a year. It shows its ridiculous face in October here too. Meh. Don’t get me wrong, I’m fine with the holiday season. But, it should not be bleeding this far into early autumn.
I turned the corner and found a painter’s dream. I looked at what I’d selected, thought about what I already have back in Tennessee and what I would need bare minimum to get my “fix.” After checking out some of the pricing, I can honestly say, I was much happier with what I’d already selected. Less than 20 Euros too!
Okay, let me confess one more thing. The checkout line was rather crowded. Off to the side was a self-checkout. I thought, what the heck. It means I don’t have to use the translator to communicate. I can just ring up my stuff and go. I’ve done it reluctantly before, how hard could it be?
There was a security guard standing watch over this particular section. A good looking fellow with dark skin and a bright smile. I went to the one he directed me to, looked at the screen, and froze. A big red button on the touch screen had words I didn’t recognize on it. I looked around the area but didn’t see anything else. I pushed the red button.
I understood that it was ready for me to begin ringing up my items. I scanned each item and set it on the loading shelf to the right. When I’d done that, I wasn’t sure how to tell the machine I had completed my transaction and was ready to pay. I stared at the screen willing myself to understand. The security guard came over and showed me how to push the red button again. OY! I gave him a tiny yellow duck as a thank you.
My Twisto app kept crashing so I couldn’t figure out how to navigate back home. I deleted it, redownloaded it, signed in again and I wasn’t at the right stop. Are you seeing a pattern here? I sure as heck am!
I got on Line 21 which would take me to someplace around the halfway point where I would transfer busses and get on a different bus to get back. BUT! As I was following the location finder, the correct bus I was on, was NOT going on the route shown on the map. Crap!
Luckily, as the bus was turning, I saw the stop with the bus that I KNEW went in front of my house and back to the stop I’d first got on from. Thank the stars someone had already dinged for the stop. I got off, made it to the correct Line 1, waited briefly, and made an uneventful trip back.
What a glorious day. Tomorrow I’m going to do laundry, wash the sheets and towels, and relax. Saturday morning, I have to find something to do again. I’m thinking of taking the bus out to the airport to see what’s shaking. Or I’ll head to the Twisto bike stand and pick up a bicycle to ride around for a bit.
May peace be with you wherever you are. You are loved!
I was given notice yesterday that the place I’m staying is currently up for sale. The realtor would be popping by to show the place today, would I mind? Uh, well…since I have no real choice in the matter and I feel like refusing would jeopardize my current arrangement, Yeah, sure! A while later I was messaged with a Whoops, sorry. Rescheduled to next week.
Five flights of stairs is not a lot in the grand scheme of things, but I’m fat and tend to be sedintary if not motivated to accomplish a task. Hey, I come by it honestly, my mother is the same way! The idea of dragging anything up and down those stairs sincerely makes me consider exactly what I’ll need to do once I get down the stairs (THAT’s no problem).
Take out recycling (Google image translate informs me that it’s on the ground floor)
Take out the trash (Also on the ground floor)
Do a load of laundry including towels (Ground floor and over two doors)
Pick up some groceries (.2 miles away is the Monoprix Hypermarket)
Get nail clippers and hand lotion (Pharmacie across the street)
I double/triple checked that I had all my dirty clothes and towels loaded into my handy buggy. I got the trash out of the can, tied off the bag and put that on top of the dirty clothes, securing the slide. I put the recycling bag handles over the buggy handles. Double/triple check, yup. That’s everything.
Grabbed my bag and keys, unlocked the door from the inside with the key… Pulled my buggy into the dark hallway, locked the door with the same key I used to open it from the inside…Open the stairwell doors and descend.
Down to the lobby where there are three doors. One goes to the outside. One doesn’t open. One reveals a storage area with a closed door off to the right. I open it because it will and I found the trash bins! Hooray!
I didn’t see a place for the recycling to go until after I’d dropped it into the cans I’d found. It was behind another closed door. Dudes, I thought about correcting my error, but truthfully, I was grateful I even found the trash bins.
I am not a graceful person. I’m large but unaware of my size most of the time. I don’t feel like I’m a size 20. In my head, I’m much smaller. I could be reading more into it than is necessary, but it’s rather magnified over here.
As I’m in the grocery store, shopping by picture, guessing at words, refusing to translate because I’d have to translate the entire store, I felt an ineptitude that I’m not a fan of feeling. It really snaps my awareness into a clarity about what it could feel like to be illiterate. I’m practically mute because although I can say simple things like please, thank you, good day, I’m sorry and my numbers, I’m ridiculously unable to do things I take for granted back home.
I’ve observed that the people I’ve interacted with have primarily spoken more than one language. They have at least a rudimentary conversational base which I am lacking in their native tongue. I feel small here. As if I could be quickly and easily forgotten. I want so badly to communicate, to let them (whomever that may be) know I exist. Maybe I’m like Ariel, wishing to be a part of a world that doesn’t belong to me. Perhaps.
Why did you get the emotional roller-coaster? It turns out that the laundromat is slightly different than the one I used before. I tried to will my brain to translate the words into ones I could understand, for some of them it did, but not enough to know what the hell I was doing. I didn’t ask for help. I just stared at the sign, trying to make sense of the symbols.
A young man, maybe 22-24, asked me in accented English if I were going to be staying long in France. Yes, until the end of the month. He suggested getting a laundry card and loading it. Instead of paying 4 Euros per wash, I’d only pay 3 Euro 60. Well, heck. That’s a pretty darn good deal. I followed his instructions. Voila! I have a loaded laundry card.
An hour for a wash. Yikes. I toddled across the street to the pharmacie, found nail clippers but no lotion. The woman behind the corner kept trying to engage me by asking me questions in French. I smiled and nodded, thank you I said. I tried to explain that I needed a small bottle of hand lotion. She stared back at me with an equally blank look on her face. I felt a little better. I relented and pulled out the translator (Why aren’t babbelfish a real thing?) A bit of back and forth and I tucked my purchases into my pocket-bag.
I’m reading a book by Jenny Swartz. Freddie Nechtow gave me the book “The House That Walked Between Worlds” and I finished that three book series. Now I’m on a new adventure by the author. Maybe it’s because of what I described earlier about illiteracy, but I don’t typically read for fun any more. I like to get lost in the world the author created. I like to ride the emotional pony around the imaginary carousel. It takes up a significant chunk of time which is why it’s not something I readily do. However, I sure am popping them back like illicit drugs trying to get a reader’s high. I returned to the laundromat and read.
After my clothes were dry, I folded them and stacked them compactly into the bottom of the buggy. I headed off to the grocery. The weather was gorgeous out, if not even a wee bit warm. But the sun, the people, the neighborhood feel of Mondeville created a sense of being. It was good.
I arrived at the store, picked through the aisles, collected my necessities, checked out, loaded up my buggy, and walked back a different route.
What steps I have traveled on roads
past tense and presently,
altared;
a communion of daily lives
exalted as the fevered prayers
of the faithful
knelt in the pews with bowed heads
whispered words of conversations,
of confessions,
of wrong paths and right roads taken
A map to their righteousness
emblazoned on a rosary bead.
I sit in the silence, aware.
I wonder if their God would understand
if I spoke prayers in English.
I wonder if the forgiveness would
somehow taste different or
if the mercy would cold shower me
with a condemnation...
con-damnation?
Instead, I don't press my luck.
I return to the community I don't belong to
hearing the voice of the God
that doesn't speak my language.
MM 2023
I tugged the buggy up to the top floor. I unloaded the groceries then my clothes. I texted with my friend Jen who is currently in an inconvenient situation. I dozed for a bit, then woke up to tell you my eventful/uneventful day. Tomorrow I plan to go to church (at 4PM here) so, there will be plenty to do while I’m waiting.
I started out with the plan to go to the Caen Memorial. It’s the number 2 bus from nearby that would take me there. But, I was running a bit uncomfortable in the Euros, so I went in search of a bank thinking that it would be a quick stop, change things out, and I could make my plans happen.
While I was trudging along to the bank, I saw a Pharmacie. Since I’ve been carrying the empty bottle of my thyroid medication around with me for three days, I popped in to see how to go about getting it filled. Luckily the Pharmacie tech spoke pretty decent English. I showed her the empty bottle, explained I wasn’t in immediate need, but would be soon.
She looked genuinely sad when she explained that they couldn’t refill it without a French doctor’s prescription. I explained to her that the pharmacy I use back home filled all but this one that I take every day. No can do. Must see a doctor. Okay. Well where do I find one of those when I don’t reside in this country.
She gave me surprisingly accurate directions to a nearby clinic. I thanked her profusely for being so helpful. Off I went to find the doctor’s office.
I should note to you that where I was is a rather large shopping zone. There is everything you’d want or need within a several block radius. I decided I’d better change out my dollars first. I found the bank.
Did you know that many businesses close between the hours of noon and 2pm? Including banks? I didn’t. As it turned out, I’d seen a shop that was open right around the corner. I explored the multitude of colors, scents, and suggested flavors. I picked up a couple of things as souveniers. I still had some time to kill, so I went window shopping.
I didn’t find anything interesting enough to catch my eye so I headed back to the bank which had just opened the doors. The young woman asked me a question in French.
“English?” I asked pointing to myself.
“No, non.” She replied.
I pulled out Google translate and explained I needed to exchange money.
“No, non.” She shook her head. “Wait here, I’ll go find out where you can do that.” Google translated.
She returned about ten minutes later with an address written on a sticky note. Her ones looked like: ^ (that’s a carot if you can’t see it.)
I verified the address, typed it into Google maps and with a smile and a wave, I went exploring again.
Plus side, I got a LOT of walking in today just running errands. I followed the path religiously until I found the shop. As luck would have it, it’s directly across the street from where I’m moving to on Saturday! Woot! Bustling neighborhood too. Walking distance.
I waited in the queue for my turn. Upon entering, I was in a small bathroom sized room with a screen rolling the exchange rate for various countries. Behind a high counter with glass up to the ceiling, a tray was pushed through the wall onto my side. The man spoke to me, I asked for English, he switched easily into our transaction.
With a bit of back and forth, I ended up a bit lighter than I’d expected, but not too bad considering. Au Revoir! Into the sunshine I went with a feeling of getting shit done. Still some things to take care of, I decided to head back towards the open market where there was a carousel for the children in a gaudy pink.
As I followed the walking map, I noted a clinic on the corner where the pharmacie tech had directed me, several in fact. I crossed the road and went in.
One of the three behind the desk spoke English. I showed them my empty bottle and explained what I needed. For clarity, this clinic had both medical AND dentistry in the same building. I further learned that today was a dentistry day. I’d have to return tomorrow to see the doctor. Would I please bring the bottle back with me when I return? Why, yes! Yes I will.
The woman at the computer asked for my name. I gave her the bottle. She smiled and typed from that. She asked for my birthdate. I recited it in French (THANK YOU MY CLIENT). She laughed at my pronunciation but when she repeated it back, it was correct. Then she asked for my phone number. I also recited it in broken French. She nodded approval at that one, read it back to me correctly and now I have an appointment tomorrow at 1PM, 7AM Knoxville TN time.
I’m 12 and this made me laugh so hard…HA! I mean, dude. This is ripe with blue humor…HA!
Everywhere I go, there are flowers planted. On street corners, on sidewalk dividers, on road dividers, in planters, around street lights. Why don’t we have more of this in America? It’s just freaking beautiful.
A pretty pigeon.The companion pigeon.Very pink carousel.
I did not, in fact, make it to the memorial today. My intentions were to do so, but when I finally got done with all of the things I’d accomplished, I was worn out. I walked back to the apartment fighting the urge to hop a bus.
I made it back safely. I fixed tuna with black olives and goat cheese diced in it with a squish of mayo (The French version has dijon mustard in it which is pretty tasty.) I drank the last of my coke zero, gathered clothes for the lavage tomorrow, took a bath after dinner (REALLY!), and now I’m writing for you.
Tomorrow I have to hit the laundry, the doctor, the pharmacie, back to the apartment, catch the bus to Cairon, work, then back home to pack up before I move Saturday. It’s going to be satisfying and busy.
My husband and I decided it was time to explore. With a few dollars in our pockets and adventure in our spirits, we headed west. We stopped when we found Holland Beach State Park (Mostly because we couldn’t go any farther West). The wind was blowing up to 50 mph which made sand a rude awakening for my bare legs as well as when I’d try to talk. We walked out to the pier because it was paved. A cane and sand are not fair companions, by the way.
Here is an example of the waves, Caution, the wind is rather noisy:
Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
Mare Martell 