Learning to Roll with the Punches

This weekend’s Sunday outing took us north to Dieppe and nearby beaches in Normandy.  Wanting to seize the beautiful summer day and take advantage of the fact that we and the kids all had the same day free before things get hectic with the usual back-to-school, back-to-work lifestyle, we set off for the day.

In the past, we’d been further up north, near Calais, for our occasional one-day trips.  More miles but faster roads, but for that you need a fast car.  This time my husband was going to have the pleasure of driving his 2CV after having done some major minor renovation recently.  I was happy to share in his joy.  We rolled the top back and enjoyed passing through various villages along the way:  old stones, pretty flowers, authentic and quaint France at its best.

A first traffic jam near Gisors slowed us down only a bit.  Fortunately, a fellow 2CV driver beeped to us to follow him along a secondary road to get past it and away we went.  Useful connections come in many forms.

So many people smiled, gave us thumbs up, parents nudging children to look at us, etc. etc.  It really is a pleasure to ride in one of these, especially in my husband’s, which is bright red and pretty darned cute, it’s true.  The bad part is, the GPS doesn’t have a 2CV speed factor. 

So to sum it up, we arrived a little after 2 pm in Dieppe – 45 minutes later than the GPS had said, only to find the streets filled with people coming to enjoy the International Kite Festival taking place on that day.  We just wanted to get lunch and get on with our travels.  That was just the beginning…

This morning, my husband said to me “we’ll do things differently the next time” and I said “why does it seem we’re always learning new things and not doing things right the first time?”  So in my incredibly generous spirit, I’m going to try to pass on a few things:

1)      Since we had “moules/frites” on our minds, we’d stop at nothing to get that.

Franck's little 2CV behind a Ford Mustang in Dieppe

Ø Problem:  All the restaurants were full, due to the festival.  Sunday afternoons can be quite disappointing, if not inexistent, regarding food choices in smaller towns, which is why we said we would go to Dieppe before starting our “real destination objectives.” We wound up spending TWO AND A HALF HOURS getting served (OK, a three-course meal, but still!)

Ø  Lesson learned:  In fact, this is a re-learn (those are the worst!)  We’d learned to stop eating lunch in restaurants while travelling in France because it eats up too much of your time.  Instead, plan ahead, make sandwiches or salads and enjoy the outdoors.  Save the restaurant for dinner.

2)      We’d wanted to recapture summertime, somehow win out over fall’s getting nearer.

Ø  Problem:  the reality was that Elise had to do a bit of homework on the beach, we didn’t feel inspired to get into our suits (although others did) because it wasn’t really summer in our minds, and we had to stress about getting back through traffic made by others like us who wanted to take advantage of a final summer weekend.

Ø  Lesson learned:   Instead of trying to eke one more of anything out of a situation, know when to call it quits.  We were chasing after summer and summer had passed.

3)      We thought we could get the kids out of the house early.                                             

Ø  When the kids were little, it was more OUR motivation that counted to get them ready.  Today we can’t push them more than they let us.  Neither Franck nor I wanted to start the day with yelling, so we didn’t leave the house until 11 am, once our son was up and ready to go.  Because it takes a good 2 hours to get to this area of the coast, that was really too late.  And we had no idea what was awaiting us at the restaurant.

Ø  Lesson learned:  Make sure all your team members are on-board or set realistic goals if they are not.

4)      A fleeting glimpse of awe is usually better than reality.                                            

Veules-les-Roses and France's tiniest river

Ø  We’d been in this area once before, when we’d ventured up there for a week-long camping trip.  After our two-hour pleasant drive four years ago, we had arrived in a pretty village with people cycling on cobblestone streets, leading to a beautiful sea of turquoise water and light sandy beaches.  We had been so happy to get there, only to be instructed by a police officer when we enquired about our campground, that we’d arrived at the wrong “St. Aubin sur Mer”.  This was the “Cote d’Albatre” and we needed to go to the Calvados region, another 90 minutes away.  Imagine our disappointment when he told us the municipal campground in front of us, just on the sea, was full.  So I tucked that into my memory and had been looking forward to going back there until yesterday.  I don’t know if our approach into the town made the difference – or that we didn’t scout around enough to find those great mental shots, but I didn’t find that same feeling.   Plus the wind was picking up something terrible, so we didn’t feel all that inspired to stay there.  On the upside, we did find another incredible village just nearby, though, called Veules-les-Roses, with the smallest river in France, but as it was late, we decided to move on to what was supposed to be our final destination:  St Valery en Caux.  After all, we did want to hang out on the beach.  So now I get to dream about going to see Veules-les-Roses one day.  Go ahead, Google it, you’ll see.

Ø  Lesson Learned:  Don’t be afraid to change your plans.  Four years ago, we “should have” stayed there.  Yesterday, we “should have” forgotten all about St Valery (even though it was nice).  Or maybe the lesson is just:  be happy with what you have and don’t keep wishing for the unaccomplished, the unlived, the undiscovered.  The more things that remain to be uncovered in life there are, the more we have lust for life.  Once we begin to feel we’ve seen it all, it means we’ve stopped wanting to know more.  It’s healthy to keep that mental checklist alive.

5)      We arrived at St Valery at 6:30 pm.                                                                        

The beautiful limestone cliffs at St Valery en Caux

Ø  Finally, after various slow-downs, we were there at the foot of monumental limestone cliffs.  We sat and lay down, listening to the waves come in, dragging pebbles down with them.  Seagulls came and went.  The sounds were soothing.  A few families bathed in the water, enjoying the end of summer.   The four of us joked and laughed and wrestled a little on the blankets.  We enjoyed the moment and left around 8 pm.

Ø  Lesson learned:  The most important part of the journey is the ride.  The villages, the friendly faces, the anticipation were all the best parts of our trip to St. Valery.  Just like the time we spent together as a family in the restaurant and on the beach were the precious moments in our larger journey as four people sharing this part of their lives together.  Like Russian dolls, layer-by-layer, it all fits together – and the layers are worth much more than that one fat Russian doll you’re left with at the end!

Out-of-body, amnesiac expat experience

It happened again last night.  My second night back from almost seven weeks in the US, I woke up not knowing if I was in the US or in France.  Was this physical structure around me my French home or my American home?  Ideally, I would be able to take our lovely home with all its memories and its four members (five, if we include the cat) and transport it all to America.

But this is not what my mind was capable of thinking yet as I lay in bed realizing I had done this before, not knowing who I was somehow, what life choices had led me there and which consequences I had been forced to suffer.  It is pure torment when this happens.

Surely jetlag has a large part to play in my confusion.  Plus fatigue.  I am completely drugged by it all.  I tried to come to terms with my surroundings – the wall-to-wall, ceiling-to-floor closet in my bedroom that my husband and I had put in a few years back.  OK, so I am married (one time I could not even remember that, so deep was I in my cross-continental stupor) but where was my home?  It is actually a kind of relief to be in no-man’s land, to know that all things are possible and I can hope for the best.

I then thought back to the night before and the fact that we had had dinner on the terrace out back.  That clinched it and I knew I was in my house in France.  The outside world had brought my reality back to me.  The cocoon of the inside was now connected to the outside foreign world of France.

The funny thing is, this never happens to me going to America.  It is only in that dichotomy of my HOME being in a foreign land that I experience this.  My most intimate world – my home with my husband and children – being inserted into a place where I somehow still feel foreign after more than 20 years of living here must seem misplaced to me, somewhere in my psyche.  It must be this opposition of logic that brings me to this state of physical ‘unbelonging’.  Of not understanding where my place is exactly in the larger scheme of things.

Two definitions of amnesia are 'psychological disturbance or shock'.   I guess this is what I am experiencing:  culture shock upon returning to my foreign home, after leaving what I have recently understood will always be my true home.  No matter the downfalls of America, it will still be my home.  It is where I feel the most myself. 

Have any of you experienced something similar?  If so, tell me about it!