Pinot, Bretzels, and Cathedrals

One of the downsides to being home on medical recoup is that my ability to tumble down social media rabbit holes has increased. Up until this week, I have been somewhat cautious with the mundane day-to-day chores I perform. My claim to not be able to wield a vacuum cleaner lasted a week, but I have turned a blind eye to the buttons that need to be sewed back onto pyjama shirts or the duvet cover that needs an extra seam. I have hung up wet clothes to dry and the entire rotation that goes with that (although hubby has maintained his grip on the iron) and mopped the kitchen floor intermittently (honestly, it’s just going to get dirty again, rinse and repeat does not bode well with me) and we have had a social evening/afternoon chez moi with some bring and share meals. But in all the time between when I’m not walking Thandi, making food which I’ve adapted to, I have switched between instasham and farcebook with remarkably rapid ability. Water is boiling for pasta? Pick up phone and check out what’s new on the ‘gram. Pasta takes 8 minutes to cook? Perfect time to comment on someone’s random question on fb groups. Or simply bite my tongue and read other answers because while I am scathingly cynical in my head, I would absolutely not write down those thoughts.

Obviously having friends out there on the other side of my DM’s has been extremely welcome, thank you to those of you who have spared me your thoughts and checked in 😉 I beg forgiveness for the voice notes if you’ve been on the receiving end of those ramblings. On the other hand, there have been moments of pleasure and other somewhat annoying occasions (because its self inflicted, and in no way directed to us a readers/viewers/social media participants.

The reason for this essay is based on questions arising from a group of South African expats I ‘observe’. One question was asking for advice from the collective group if anyone who had moved to France that could answer to various aspects concerning medical and social security, the weather, the food, the culture and lifestyle. The second question was asking if and how South Africans eating habits had changed or differed (- a little bit of a fishing trip in my opinion. You won’t believe how divisive a piece of meat on a braai can be) since they had immigrated.

Given the number of France-based SA’s on the group is at the end of the list of highest to lowest populated ‘expats’, I decided I was able to offer my thoughts from a very lived space. And you know me- I’m diplomatic is my writings, so I was informative and only necessarily emotional. The review was well taken, but no matter from which angle I was writing it from, there is so much that could be shared of any move at all.

If a person happens to be in a position to choose where in the world they would move to, what are the criteria that determine it? We moved here based on a job offer. Did I consider the weather before we made our minds up? Nope. Did I consider what food I would be eating? Nope. Obviously social security, health and medical and education formed part of that. All of those are available in South Africa- for the privileged set, because if you can’t pay taxes, you’re likely to be living in a space that is not safe, without government services close by, and while you can get hospital treatment, it is a very different experiment from those who afford private healthcare.

The question I replied to was asked anonymously so I had to be careful how to answer. What is life like living in France?

Or, in a roundabout way, “Why are we happy with our lives here?”

Because it feels a little bit like home.

It’s not like it’s waaay culturally different: I am a God fearing person (as opposed to a person of non-Christian religions), I eat the food that is similar (cream and butter and fruit and vegetables and the proteins are pretty similar, plus South African cuisine is influenced by so many other countries that we would be hard pressed to find something we wouldn’t be willing to try).

How does weather factor into our choices? For me, weather wasn’t the game changer.

Is my lifestyle the same or different? It’s the same. I have my family, we go shopping once a week, the sun is warm in summer, we can do road trips for holidays. My kids are bilingual, they need to be properly vaccinated in order to go to school. Their peers are equally kind and awful as if we were in a school in Centurion/Joburg/Howick. We have friends who are kindred spirits and we have friends who sit around my dinner table and help me support the wine industry here and at home. We have friends who are also bilingual, or multilingual and are beautifully unique and can teach us just as much as we could at home. Our other home.

And yes, our lifestyle is also different. I live in a city that is 1000 years old. I don’t drive a car. I don’t have a family member to help me out when I need that type of support. The political landscape is unfamiliar and obviously the language puts up a barrier. I can go running in the forest on my own with my phone and earphones in plain sight. The winter days are dark and seem to go on forever. Being able to have a career change isn’t as easy as I had hoped.

And why are we happier with our decision to live here, instead of the other 70 odd country’s inhabited by South Africans? Why not England where the language is familiar? Or Aus where the weather is similar? Or NZ/Canada – other English speaking countries also filled up with South Africans?

Exactly that.

Maybe it was just the result of an opportunity. I’m not sure we would have been able to afford the migration fees if we had done it on our own, and in any case, we hadn’t left with the intention of never going back. It still remains a chapter in our lives- not a closed book.

Trying to get a clear answer from public spaces like social media should be the last place anyone should seek information. Each person has a different reason for migrating, and everyone deals with the various aspects differently. For a South African, however, I would need to ask what it is they’re looking for in their move. For example, a couple with an older child living in a large spacious house in the upper-burb’s of Joburg wanting to move to the Netherlands wouldn’t be advisable if they were looking for a lifestyle equal to ‘home’. Europe’s cities are prime location, expensive and full. Sprawling wide homes are more available outside the cities, but then it’s likely you’ll find yourself more isolated and take longer to adapt, depending on the type of person you are. Here, we rented a small 100sq/metre apartment close to the city centre in Strasbourg for 4 years. It was a great space for a while, getting used to our new lifestyle, albeit worlds away from where we had come from. But we adapted to it. Eventually we could move to the outer suburbs and now I have the best of both worlds. Was it a game changer? Not really, because I am of the belief that one should not regret the decisions made, and often, nothing is forever. Cycles and seasons force change and whether we’re willing to adapt is only on us, nobody else.

For 3 years I struggled with winters, despite the fact that it’s not Canada-cold here. But my movements of collecting kids from school (5 trips a day) using buses and waiting interminably made me resent the winter rain. In time, though, I grew accustomed to seeing friendly faces at the school gates, and the chance for a cup of coffee. It was the balance that made me realise what I actually had in hand. That and the knowledge that there are literally 40 million people worse off than me in South Africa, and I simply cannot resent the multi-times a day bus trips next to someone’s smelly armpit at 5pm because I made the choice to do this.

And so, when SA’s ask me about the soul-sucking winters in northern Europe, I think of this: I wait in glorious anticipation of the seasons, because I’ve learnt to appreciate them for what they bring. Spring is simply beautiful. It’s the only other time in your life will you appreciate beauty in new birth without the pain and trials of actual childbirth, that joy of experiencing life after winter. Summer is a gift. Summer makes us look beautiful, the long days and the extra hours are appreciated for the games we play, the meals we can enjoy with friends. Autumn is a mixture of beauty and a gift. And winter? Winter is a most incredible reminder that we need to chill. That it’s okay to take hibernation, down time, and to be able to say no. We might not actively actually do that, but it serves as a reminder that we can. And should.

I can’t help but wonder if us collective immigrants are wholly spoilt in our expectations? Countless questions have been made: “where can I buy chutney and rusks?” when I honestly believe the reality should be a case of adapting to new surroundings. We’ve made the decision to leave the shores, mountains and wild savanna plains of our homeland, it should simply follow suite that a time to align with new set of cultures is necessary. Who are we that we get to encroach into other countries and simply make home for ourselves? Indeed, we’re a formidable nation who have endured a certain level of difficulties, and perhaps the new little versions of South Africa that have a space in other continents- I’ve heard that there are schools in Australia that teach Afrikaans- will be a little more enlightened than their counterparts left at home . This in itself is a loaded idea, given we’re all the descendants of immigrants anyway.

I used to have this version in my head of Americans, all encompassing brash, loud know-alls, that no other culture could come close to the marvel and success of the land of the opportunity, and that there is very little outside of the borders of those 50 states.

But the truth is, it’s not a trait endemic to Americans. Across the world, each country’s citizen could be guilty of a version of that.

Americans can’t understand that they’re not understood everywhere they travel to- the French get annoyed that the rest of the world doesn’t speak French. The English seem to consider immigrants as second class citizens, despite their imperialism and the invasion of so many countries for gold and diamonds. South Africans are running away from their own English/Dutch given land and are trying to rebuild that rosy idyllic space and lifestyle in parts of the world that simply cannot be, will not be, nor should not be.

This feeds into the question “did our eating habits change when we moved to our adopted country?” I like to think that most people adapt to their new countries’ culinary palate with relative ease. I would guess that there is a difference between conscious adaptations and unconscious adaptations. But to live a life either longing for commiserating the absence of, say, boerewors and pap, or bunny chows and spicy lamb curry when you have elected to live in a country where neither is freely available seems a waste of misery. While it is possible to retain your pride in your home language – ja broer, jou egte taal– the need to adapt to what is available should be an important distinction. I’ve written here and on my Instagram account often concerning my adaptation of South African ingredients and specialties (chutney, hot cross buns, rusks, buttermilk/mass to name a few), there is little point in lamenting the absence of your old existence and embracing the new.

Look, this is an incredibly loaded topic, and I doubt I have expressed myself with the clarity it deserves- I think I have indulged in way too much ‘beating about the bush‘ to avoid sensitive ego’s who probably won’t read this. Mostly, I needed to get stuff off my chest, which it now is, but I don’t want to think I’ve wasted precious moments scribbling my musings. It’s been 5 weeks since I had my surgery, and am heading back to work next week. Therefore in an effort to write one blog per month, I’m going to click the publish button, and hope that I’ve not offended anyone. Granted, some of you may not even get what I’m going on about! Mostly what I’ve taken away from this little rabbit-hole trip has been that its probably best I stay off the ‘socials’ – insert huge wink emoji.

On a lighter note, the days are getting beautifully longer, the blossoms are coming out already as we have hit some unusually high temperatures, with no rain for the longest period recorded in winter. I have been here long enough to know that this does not bode well, so I’m not rejoicing in the sunny days as much as I should. Still, it’s hard not to be happy when the sun is out. Less than 5 weeks to the clocks change and soon we’ll be bumbling downhill to lazy summer days. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it, but Famille du Plessis are heading back to Afrique du Sud for summer/winter, but more on this soon, once our tickets are booked.

And if you’re still here for this rambling- how are you? I know some of you lovelies have had a rough start to the year, so my thoughts are with you.

Love and beignets,

Me