At Home in the French Pyrénées

We arranged our taxi to the airport the night before our flight, so we were able to get up, get changed, and get in the cab with about three hours of sleep after sitting up with Heather and Anne until late. The flight was painless because we were tired enough not to care that there was a whole boys’ team of young soccer players shouting across to each other and kicking our seats. We arrived to a uniform grey sky at 9:30am; we had forgotten that time would jump forward an hour. Both of us were a little bit stumped when it came to ordering breakfast at the airport, but we had an hour bus ride ahead of us to get right into Paris so we couldn’t wait. Eventually we stepped up to the counter and I ordered sandwiches according to the labels and with as few other words as possible. The lady behind the counter looked only slightly tolerant despite our apologetic smiles. We figured out what bus stop we needed based on our hostel directions, and bought our tickets to Paris from a guy who spoke just enough English. Then we ate the delicious baguette-sandwiches and slept.

When the bus arrived in Paris there were few signs showing us where the Metro was, but with a little walking we eventually figured it out. Unfortunately we had to wait in line for tickets for almost an hour because the machines were broken. We purchased two-day unlimited passes for 17 euros each. By the time we finally arrived near our hostel in the Gare de l’est area, and then walked to it, we were a little disappointed to find out our room wasn’t even ready. We had to leave our backpacks with the receptionist, who we figured out spoke English after a moment’s hesitation and an attempted, “Bonjour.” Both of us wanted coffee, but we didn’t know where to go or what to say, so we wandered around our hostel scoping out the area. We were right beside a police station and surrounded by about a hundred hair salons full of black women. Both of us got tired of being timid when faced with ordering our drinks, so eventually we went into a café that turned out to be expensive. The first waitress we spoke to reverted to English when I asked, “Pardon?” after her speedy greetings. The second waiter, when I asked in French if I could speak English, replied, “Don’t try.” We weren’t sure if he was being rude or saying, “Don’t strain yourself, I can speak English.” But based on the reputation of the French that had been impressed upon us before leaving, we had reason to doubt. Overall we found the Parisians intimidating, although the hints we had heard about them didn’t help.

Our bidet

It started to pour as we drank our coffees and ate a side of fries, so we stalled as long as we could, enjoying how happy the staff was when someone they knew brought a puppy inside. When it dried up we found a Supermarché then finally got to go up to our room. We were surprised to find, not a shared bathroom, but a sink and “bidet” at the foot of our bed. At first we thought the bidet was a rectangular-shaped toilet. I had never heard it before, but had no intention of using it instead of toilet paper. Despite the coffee, we both ended up napping for an hour, which was nice because we planned to stay out late enough to see the Eiffel Tower in lights. After making our purchases at the Supermarché, we got on the Metro, stopped at a hardware store for a French adapter, and then walked to the tower. By now the sun had come out, so we were able to walk through the leafy park under the tower, marvel at the mass of other people standing under the enormous construction, and then have a picnic in the field in front of it. We were struck by how strange it is that the actual place was so different from the ideas we had formed based on photos. It has happened time and time again, and it really makes me appreciate how varied and surprising the world can be.

Romance

Our picnic consisted of a five euro bottle of red wine, some brie, Philadelphia cream cheese, crackers, sliced meats, sour coke bottles, and chocolate chip cookies. This, plus a bottle of white wine, only cost us 20 euros and lasted for lunch the next day. The weather was gorgeous during our meal, but chilly when the wind came by, and annoying when guys selling alcohol kept harassing us when we clearly had drinks already. But I enjoyed watching all the other tourists taking their silly pictures; especially the father-daughter and father-son pictures, which were very cute.

The Eiffel Tower

When we were finished, we wandered under the tower and across the road. Almost in the middle of traffic was an Asian bride and groom posing for what would clearly be beautiful wedding photos. We strolled across the bridge and went for a walk across from the tower as we waited for the lights to turn on as the sky turned to deep blue. Then we sat on the wall and simply took it in. Later, when I was sitting on the wall looking away and the deep blue sky turned nearly black, a little girl beside me exclaimed in awe, “Oh wow!” I turned back to the tower to see it flashing and sparkling, putting me in mind of nothing so much as bright diamonds. Somehow no one has ever mentioned to me that the tower does that. I gasped, “Oh my gosh!” like a child myself. We spotted the bride and groom by the water, with the bride now in a flowing red gown. After a few peaceful minutes the lights faded back to normal, and we began the journey home.

Notre Dame Cathedral

Dale with the Louvre's inverted pyramid

The Louvre

Jardine Des Tuileries

Champs-Élysées

We had a late start the next day, so we ate croissants, pain du chocolat, and clementines from the Supermarché, then took the Metro to the Louvre, but realized we could make a stop for Notre Dame. The line was huge, but it didn't take long to get inside the cathedral. I couldn't judge whether it was bigger than Yorkminster, which I saw in 2007, but it was certainly spacious up to the ceiling, and the stained glass windows were stunning in how expansive they were, if nothing else. As for the Louvre, we didn’t feel like exploring the gallery when it was so beautiful outside and so expensive inside, so we took just took photos and then had lunch and wine right outside at the Jardins Des Tuileries, which was peaceful except that I saw a rat while Dale was feeding the birds. Afterwards we walked straight out onto the leafy-treed Champs-Élysées, passing by expensive shops, until we reached the Arc de Triomphe. It was surprising how close together all these sights were. We could even see the Eiffel Tower. However, we were exhausted by the time we reached the Arc de Triomphe because that is a long walk. We stopped at a MacDonald’s for a drink—where I thought I communicated pretty well in French, whether necessary or not—and had our drinks at the tables outside.

Arc de Triomphe

Moulin Rouge et moi

Then I realized we still needed to see the Moulin Rouge and the Catacombs, but we had no idea where they were. We wandered around pointlessly until we were too tired not to eat. We had planned on stopping at the Supermarché, but it was closed. We ended up at Sushiramma, where the Asian waiter and I communicated more comfortably in French than I had with any other Parisian. We were happy with the price, as well as the quantity and quality of the sushi. When we had figured out where Moulin Rouge was, we took the Metro, then wandered in the wrong direction twice before reaching it. We didn’t go in, again because it is supposed to be so expensive, but I was happy to have seen that sight, if not the catacombs. If there’s a next time we will have to explore them then.

We were up bright and early the next day to check out, get breakfast, take the Metro to the train, and then take the train to Toulouse. But again the store was closed, this time because it was so early on Sunday. We ended up waiting until we had reached the train, where I again communicated fairly well with the baker-looking man, who was probably the friendliest Frenchman we came across. The train to Toulouse was peaceful. We ate our sandwiches, drank our cappuccinos, and then I went to sleep the second I started to feel sick from sitting backwards. When I woke up I felt fine again. I spent the rest of the trip listening to music, watching the startling amount of greenery passing by, and feeling comfortably like we had no time limits for once.

When we arrived in Toulouse the sun was blazing down on the pale brown, red, and beige buildings. If it weren’t for the language I would have thought we were in Spain. Every now and then for the next two days my senses were enjoyably confused. Dale and I soaked up the sun like we hadn't seen it in ten months. Even if that wasn't true, it sure felt that way. We at least haven't had warmth like that in months! We bought a day pass for the Metro and headed for our hostel. The area seemed a little sketchy, but it wasn’t too hard to find. We entered through a gate with a code rather than a door, and waited upstairs for the receptionist to show up whenever she pleased. She turned out to be helpful when she did finally arrive. We dropped off our stuff in the eight-bedroom dorm that had two separate showers and a toilet, then we wandered down to the Canal du Midi, which is supposedly the oldest canal in Europe, then strolled along the River Garonne.

River Garonne

After stopping for awkwardly ordered Subway despite the cashier speaking English in the end, we headed down some stone steps to a grassy area where artists were selling their work. From this point on we found the French more patient and friendly with English-speakers. Eventually we walked through the narrow streets looking for a hat for Dale, which we never did find, and cheap food. It was so hot that we settled on McFlurries, which we ordered using a computer, effectively negating the language barrier. We ate sitting on a lip of the Capitole’s wall, then went back to our hostel where we ate the leftover Subway in a garden area at the back before returning to the river. We spent the rest of the evening lounging in the grass with people playing violins, flutes, or drinking. As the air got cooler we returned to watch “Game of Thrones” through earphones and go to sleep.

The War Monument

The next day we would meet our hosts for the rest of the month, but check-out was so early in comparison that we had to carry our backpacks around with us all day. The sky was brilliantly blue again, which made it more tiring, but we found ourselves a crêpe shop that was just opening and which served as our first break. This is where I spoke the best French yet, even conjugating my verbs properly. We ate the Nutella-covered treats at tiny picnic tables directly on the street. Eventually we made it to the World War monument honouring the dead, and sat and ate chips we had bought in a convenience store. Behind us was the Toulouse Cathedral. Following this we entered the colourful Jardin Royal and sat in a giant gazebo, then crossed a bridge to le Jardin de Plantes where we sprawled in the sun and read until we ready to search for ice-cream and meet up with our host. On the way we saw rooster and chickens wandering free. The cashier who sold us our ice-cream outside of the park ran the back of her hand over her forehead when I asked her to repeat, “Il est chaude?” to which we replied, “Oui!” It probably wasn’t too bad out, but to be fair our backpacks and side-bags were weighing us down.

Jardin Royal

At last we texted Amy, our host, who we arranged to meet on a street corner. I felt a little nervous as we waited for silver car after silver car to go by, but we knew immediately when Amy had arrived by her enthusiast waving. She pulled over and got out to greet us, saying she was relieved to spot us and is always worried she won’t find her Helpers. We had been wearing our backpacks to make it more obvious. We drove for an hour and half to Amy’s home in the hills, and the whole way there. I was torn between the conversation and the hills, trees, and tiny stone villages we passed along the way.

Amy explained that she is from California, while her French husband also grew up there, and their two kids are able to speak fluent French and English as a result. Both blonde parents have “eco-science” jobs and spend time in both countries. When we arrived in their village, after driving up narrow winding roads, the first sight we were met with was Tobias ambling up the hill towards us with his daughter, their massive donkey, and their two large white dogs. It turns out many people in the village speak English, some of whom are English or Australian. Two of Amy's former English-speaking Helpers loved their experience so much that they rent our hosts’ old house just down the road. As Amy spoke to Tobias, a jogger ran past with a, “Bonjour!” then dunked his hands in a trough of water on the side of the road and dumped it all over his head. Amy later told us that you can drink the water from wherever because it is from such a pure underground source. It wasn’t even until the  ’50s that people stopped “fetching a pail of water” and had it installed in their houses. I was excited to find water that tasted like home somewhere else in the world, especially now that chemicals have been added back home.

Our room

We walked down a steep hill to the house, which we enter through the side because someone else lives in the front section. The house apparently used to belong to the local bear trainer. Pushing open the heavy wood door, Ami showed us into a skinny ski-lodge-type front room, then the main kitchen/living room area. Our own room was up a flight of the world’s noisiest stairs to the top of the house. There is a large bathroom there, and angled ceilings. Our room is white, enormous compared to what we are used to, and, also unlike what we are used to, has a king-sized bed. The floors in the entire house are the ceilings for the rooms below, so we have to be quiet, but we find it private enough being on a different floor from everyone else. The view out our window is phenomenal. We overlook the grassy backyard and the fields beyond, which lead right up to the Pyrénées mountains and their snow.

The Pyrénées Mountains

We went for a walk with Amy and the two kids, Adrien, seven, and Alièna, four. Incidentally, I had guessed Adrien’s name before meeting him, knowing nothing but that it began with an “a.” Alièna zoomed around the hills on her scooter, while Amy said bonjour to everyone she passed. We walked out of the closely built stone houses with Max, an old lion-pawed village dog who decided to come along. My impression of that walk was of dazzling golden sunlight and glowing green leaves. When we got in bed that night I found a spider crawling across the sheets overtop of me, but it’s mostly been flies since then. Apparently it’s because the French don’t like screens over their windows, and because we are in a rural area with plenty of cows.

We chatted with our hosts and Alexis’ brother over a Swedish meal—as in Ikea, which was funny—then went straight to bed. The kids eat earlier than we do. The next day Dale and I woke up after our hosts had taken the kids to their activity for the week they have off of school and went to work themselves. We found tools in the Cave (cav) under the house, with the help of Julien, the English gardener who works once per week. It was awkward trying to figure out if he spoke English or not, but in the end Nicolas, Alexis’ brother clued us in by saying we could ask him any questions we might have about our work. The work itself was five hours of weeding the raspberry patches and using a drill to destroy a stone planter filled where they want to put in a staircase between their decks. We traded on and off throughout the day, transporting the broken stones to the pond beside the house, and had a 40 minute lunch of leftovers. We found mostly slugs, some spiders, and one little wall lizard. I dropped a huge rock on my finger, which made me feel sick but wasn't a bad injury otherwise. The sky was grey, which Amy said is normal this time of year. I’m regretting listening to Dale and only bringing one pair of jeans; Heather and Anne were right to tell me that I was crazy.

Dinner that night was a specially-prepared French ratatouille from Nicolas. He even cooked all the layers of vegetables separately. As we ate we heard a peeping sound outside, which Amy explained was the mother frog that carries her babies on her back. It sounded like a phone beep, but was quite cute.

We had planned to get up earlier the next day, but failed again. Amy left us a note with some inside chores in case it rained outside, but luckily the weather held up and we finished transporting the plants from the plantar to the garden and taking down the wall. Alièna stayed the night at her friends house, and Nicolas went to visit his wife, so we ate dinner of Quiche, salad, and sweet potato fries together. All the dinners have been fantastic so far. There was still a small measure of awkwardness between us, but the next day helped with that.

Lac Bethmale

Playing at the water's edge

Amy took us to a village on another hill to pick up some local kids and go to the Lac de Bethmale. It was a bright day once again, so it was a perfect trade for working on Saturday. That village was across a skinny bridge where the river ran past houses that looked like they belonged in another century. Of course, they do. We ended up having more than eight kids with us at the lake for most of the day. We caught tadpoles and toads, had a picnic, and hiked through the woods. A slight mood-killer, on the way back we passed three men on the side of the road trying to pull a dead calf from its labouring mother using a rope around its neck. The kids were a little confused by that, but probably less disturbed than Amy and I. But the day was mostly cute, with the three-year-old Australian boy adopting me as his helper, and overall the kids being able to warm up to us. They were adorable calling their mothers with, “Maman!” The lake itself was clear and green and reminded me of home in the summertime. When we returned, Alexis let us stroke a mother chickadee he was tagging for work.

Watching a toad swim in the bucket