Yesterday morning Mme H and I took a bus to Kehl, over the Rhine into Germany. They have a ‘Woolworths’ (which are not the Woolies we all know, but more like a shop in a Chinese mall, in the south of Jozi.) The reason for our trip was to buy trinkets and sweets to put into party packs for the up-coming 6th birthday party we will be hosting. Nobody seems to know of anywhere similar in Strasbourg, hence all the expat Mums head to Kehl for this purpose.
Having an entire Southern Hemisphere country in common with Mme H, our conversation naturally turns in that direction and we found ourselves discussing perception, and that of those back home.
What is your notion of French lifestyle?
Mme H feels that 10 years ago when she started travelling, her friends’ ideas were of the romanticism of France, popping out to buy your baguette, on an ancient dilapidated bicycle, waving to the Grand’Mere attending to her legumes at the epicerie, stopping for une espresso et pain au chocolat, while basking in the warm summer sun.
She is saddened that her friends assume this is her lifestyle, when the reality is waking and dressing our children, searching frantically for gloves, hats and missing shoes, collecting travels passes and handbags, an eye constantly on the clock to see which bus you’ll be catching, only to step outside to realise the rain is falling, and your umbrella is at the bottom of the coat pile, 4 stories up in your building, with no elevator.
My opinion is that our friends are wiser than we take them for, and that you know very well that life outside South Africa is just as hectic as it your life. I might not have to stress about where to find the money for a private school education, or if my insurance is up to date, and I won’t mention the glaringly obvious concerns, but life is not about crusty baguettes, candy floss clouds and ancient bicycles. I, just like you, have to keep an eye on traffic, on the weather; on our health (…I will tell you about my recent doctors’ visit in a post to come.) I can’t just pop into the wine shop on the corner and pick up a nice bottle of Burgundy for my Rump Steak Dinner.
To be very honest, if I had any perception at all about life in Europe, it would be that of perpetual grey skies, its long dark fingers stretching from the Bay of Biscay beyond the North Sea, all the way up to the Baltic and reaching down to the Black Sea.
In my mind, the Tour de France wasn’t actually cycled in France-it was all a blown up story, because in my mind, there was no way that Europe could have all of that lovely golden sunlight, as portrayed on le Tour.
Nope, Hitler and Mussolini would not have been as deranged as they were had there been more sunny skies.
I say this in jest, because with all the sun in the world shining down on my beautiful homeland, there are many more, even more violent, people than Hitler and co.
But back to my perceptions! I was pleasantly surprised last July when we arrived to find the sky as blue as the one we had left behind, and almost completely cloudless. The air was thick with humidity, and to be honest, for 6 weeks, cold beer has never tasted so amazing.
Alas, summer ended, and with its departure, came the clouds. We may not necessarily have actually had rain, nor did the temperature plummet, but those clouds really have hovered since late August.
I am told by my husband that the two mountain ranges that nestle Strasbourg- the French Vosges, and the German Black Forest- maintain our weather patterns more consistently. In other words, the mountains form a barrier, and while we might receive the cold front 2 days after the rest of France, once it’s in the valley, it takes longer to pass over.
It really does feel that the clouds are the most common skyline, and living where we do, surrounded by 5 story high buildings, I really do miss the sun.
Don’t get me wrong- we do see sun, but between taking the bus or tram to school four times a day, it is often the last thing that I commiserate.
But then, a small little moment, a small…serendipity, if I may say that, crossed my tram tracks earlier this week, that has settled my cravings for inhospitable summer heat.
Beth and I were en route to collect Alex from school (the little monster has been off sick all week). She was in a melancholy mood, and asked me to play her current favourite song on my phone (Breathe, by Anna Nalick). I whipped out my earpiece, and shared it between the 2 of us- can you picture me sitting on a tram seat, with Beth on my lap, our heads pressed together, looking out the window at the passing shops?
Well, the tram passes the Palais du Rhin, the Prefecture, the Opera House, the Strasbourg Theatre, and several natty boutiques and brasseries. Oh yes, and the post office, a building dating back to 1896, which houses La Poste. The immense space of all those beautiful old buildings means that even if there was a little bit of sunlight, you would not see it.
As the tram shuttles passed the corner of La Poste, the road opens up- Avenue de Liberté on the left, and the cities’ canals converge here at Gallia to reform the Ill River. To the north is a church- St Paul’s, and to the south, docked bar-boats and Petite France beyond.
This is another of my favourite places in the city. It is open, it is a buzz of divergent commuters- chic ladies with French Poodles, smart men in pristine suits, scholars, more languages than you can imagine in one place. The beauty of St Paul’s, the boats with their demitasse café or jugs of beer. (Secretly I can’t wait for summer to actually walk down there to actually have a plate of mussels and glass of Riesling, instead of just alluding to it.)
Oh dear! I have lost my way again!
Getting back to my serendipitous moment on Monday: Beth and I were gazing out of the windows of the tram, listening to music, a piece of music called The Flower Duet started up.
You’ll recognise the piece if you look it up on You Tube or iTunes- it is often used in movies and television media.
After a 15 second piano piece, the singers start singing, and I cannot begin to describe how they do it, but in that moment, over the Ill River, the sun peeped out from the clouds and shone with all of its wintery force onto the bridge, the Church, the boats, the river.
It was a moment of peace, of up-liftment, or glorious understanding of existence, that was exaggerated by the silvery opera voices drifting from my earpiece.
Okay, okay. I’m sorry; the cliché is just getting worse!
The thing is, we might not have the (often) unrelenting sun that the southern hemisphere has, but it is possible to enjoy moments for which we can be grateful, and if it takes a sick baby girl, a mobile phone and silver sunlight to have that, then I will take it.
And as far as perceptions go, yes, Europe still is very grey in my mind, but if we didn’t have the winter grey and clouds, we would not appreciate the golden summer, and late sunsets.
Days until the summer holidays: 150.
😉
Pinot, Bretzels, and Cathedrals 