2 May 2005

Memories of France are my Souvenirs

Leaving France, maybe for the last time in my life, brought me to tears. The whole process of taking the ferry back to England has grown so routine, yet this time it felt sad. The drive north from Senlis (where we lived in the beautiful old stone house with the most wonderful neighbors ever ... Monique and Bernard) still was confusing even after two years of making the two-hour trip to Calais to take the ferry across the 90 miles of the English Channel to England.

As we waited for the ferry this last time, I was deep in thought, thinking of so many wonderful memories ("souvenirs," as Monique calls them). I was thinking of the daily walks downtown to buy groceries, and the amazing market on Tuesdays and Saturdays. At this particular moment I chose to ignore how tough it was on me before I could speak enough French to negotiate my purchases, but no one took advantage of my inability to count in French, or speak the exact French word necessary to buy a kilo of some perfect fruit or vegetables.

And I was thinking of the house we rented on the road to Paris ... three stories with six bedrooms surrounded by a high stonewall. So much happened here that changed our lives for the better ... new friends, new language, new understanding of the world. Of course, I didn't allow myself to remember "the travelers" that robbed us just two weeks after we moved into the place, or the amazing loneliness I felt at the beginning.

My mind traveled around as I recalled the wonderful visit of our friends Ted and Diane ... their picturesque wedding in the garden. We visited Pierrefonds, and then the Chateau Troissereux plus the Peace Museum in Caan, all favorites of mine.

Then I thought of IKEA, the giant Swedish store in Paris where we bought furniture and household goods with names like "Poang" (a modern looking wooden chair) or Hackas (a CD holder). I have no idea if these names are Swedish, but they certainly aren't French. The French love this place, though, and it is easy to see why -everything comes in boxes, along with the tool to put the stuff together. I loved the IKEA lunch buffet where the healthy food always tasted delicious.

And then there were brocantes, community garage sales held in a common area of a small town. We bought videotapes, CDs and things for our garden at bargain-basement prices. Cat's first brave act of speaking French outside of school was to negotiate a price for a Barbie doll. From then on, she became my interpreter when I wasn't able to communicate well enough in my horrible American-accented French.

I can't forget Rouen because it was one of our first adventures after we moved into the rental house, and we were not disappointed. Between the church that the artist Monet must have painted a hundred different ways in various light reflections, and the Joan d'Arc church where the Catholics burned the famous warrior at the stake, this was a great city to visit. And of course there were so many gardens, but I can recall each one. There were parks, and woodland walks, and carriage rides. The visits to Paris, the Jackie Kennedy exhibit, the museums, the shops, and everything that went with them were beyond compare. There has been so much to take in, and we did our best to absorb it all, but there is still so much to see. I can't imagine never returning.

As the car pulled onto the ferry I was thinking that the best bit of this adventure is the friendship we found in this place. Some of the people I will miss are French, and others are American, while some came from a faraway island off of India or China. As Monique always says, "This has been but a moment ... a wonderful souvenir." I will carry the impact of this place with me for the rest of my life, and for this brief moment in this life I am eternally grateful.

Annie Warmke has returned to Philo, but she continues to write about her experiences of life in Europe. You can visit her at http://www.bluerockstation.com.