Pinot, Bretzels, and Cathedrals

7am, and I’m standing on a train concourse bound for Paris.

Do you know- I love a train. I love the old stations, the symmetry of the train tracks, curious of the stories of the groups of fellow passengers, the possibilities that await aboard.

** post script from the end of the day. See below 😉

Trains are also just so much more chilled than planes too, don’t you think?

They’re also a really great place from which you can sit and write from. It’s a journey occasionally filled with reflection: not short enough that I can’t become entangled in my musings, there’s less chaos and they hold a mystery that evokes and guides my creative juices- fleeting countryside views, perhaps a setting sun, tunnels, different cities and towns, even raindrops splattered on the windows can become the .

And thus, here I sit, phone in hand (gone are the days of my handwritten journals) on the early Sxb-Paris train so that I can do my civic and democratic duty and cast a ballot vote in this years South African elections abroad.

This is my third opportunity to vote abroad as a South African. My head is full of cliches of being the change I want to see, being smug about taking the time to do this, and as usual, it comes with a backpack of emotional luggage.

I’ve made France my home for 11 years now. I speak passable French (and every single occasion I get complimented on my accent I pack it away with sheer joy), I take pride in all things Alsacienne (Bretzels, Storks, Gewürztraminer, Munster cheese, Choucroute and the Cathedral) and my girls’ slang is more French than SudAf, but South Africa is and will always remain where I was born, where my family is, where the beaches are the most familiar and best, where the Berg is part of my soul, where the sun shines without a care for anyone seeking shelter, where the smiles of the people are like the sun itself. And legally, it’s the country that has to take me back no matter what happens to me.

And so I hurtle through the Grand Est countryside, skipping through Champagne without stopping, to be able to trek to the South African embassy to vote today.

Today is more important to me than it’s been before. You see, with our life being flipped upside down by a glioblastoma in March, we may find ourselves in a precarious position of having to leave France if our work permit and visa gets revoked.

Imagine how this fact sits in a dark corner of my heart. Hubby’s visa is attached to his job. Mine is attached to him being able to work. What happens when/if the government decides we can’t stay?

Yes yes, naysayers will always remind me that the current government in South Africa has all but abandoned its people and there’s no coming back from that, so why vote for broken if there’s no guarantee of a change? And besides, what will my one little vote matter?

Obviously it does. And truthfully, I cannot, will not let this occasion pass without doing what I think is the right thing. Because as I’ve said so many times already this year: you never really do know.

(Or, I can simply apply for French citizenship and not have to stress about where I can be, but that doesn’t take into account my SouthAfricaness, does it?) (and applying for nationality is not *just like that with a finger snap*).

And besides. Who wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to visit Paris in spring?

Paris is, and always will remain for me, a cool city to visit. Dozens of arrondissements each with their own little vibe, museums both classic and nouveau, a cultural hotpot, more than too many restaurants to eat at, La Seine, bridges. What IS best about it, is that I can leave to come back home.

Having arrived at the South African embassy at 10:00, had a quick natter with the Oracle, and an ex-SudAfStrasser, (it made me so happy to see you, thank you for taking the time for me ☺️) I was in and out of the voting station quicker than it takes to make a cappuccino. And given the proximity of 59 Quai d’Orsay to La Tour, I decided to wander over to take some tourist photos.

Too much light.

Too many tourists.

Too much middle of the day, and I remembered I wanted to take in the now currently frequently photographed bridge in Paris (for the gram) the Pont de Bir Hakeim, and thus, furthered my walk along La Seine.

Indeed, it is a stunning length of road below the Line 6 Metro bridge above la Seine, and the Bir’s claim to fame is its engineering architecture. It has the metro line running above the city, with a pedestrian and cycle route between great steel columns and some very nondescript road lanes running alongside. The bridge actually forms part of an island that allows pedestrians to walk from Pont de Bir Hakeim to Pont de Grenelle where there is a small Lady Liberty – which I missed unfortunately as I was more intrigued by the view of La Tour and the route that seemingly ploughed into a hill.

I won’t lie, I quite enjoyed the space. It’s kind of quiet (if you gloss over the photography sessions of bridal couples and influencers) and best of all, the route kind of secrets itself into the little koppie that is the 16th arrondissement. Nestled against a wall of rock are stairs and now in spring, a quaint little quiet space, so secret that there are no cozy little restaurants nestled alongside unfortunately. Had I had a little extra time, I would have walked all the way up to l’Arc de Triomphe, but I was completely amazed to discover the apartments up on the hill of the 16th that have hilltop views of La Tour! I always thought I was a fan of Le Marais arrondissement but I have a new fave now.

Following this little foray, I hit the metro to head to le Marais to meet friends for lunch, who had discovered a very popular spot where there was a queue to get a seat at 12:15, and we chilled over a cool beer for 30 minutes to get seated. But it was worth it- my first real Paris restaurant I think: certainly there was no hamburger on the menu, the male serving staff were harried and effective (although a overzealous busboy served part of my meal- a seared tuna steak on white asparagus with a chilli dressing all over my jean pants without realising 🙄😤), and quite unexpectedly, didn’t cost an arm and a leg. They’re obviously doing something right because the queue was even longer when we left around 15:00. Certainly, their staff were not in need of going to a gym. It’s easy to see how the industry end up on the broken scale in life.

The long spring days meant the sun was still up when I arrived home 12 hours later and was really happy to see that Anton and Alex had made a roast chicken dinner, cooked the focaccia I’d left to be cooked, all the laundry was done and everyone was in good spirits.

There’s a tough little war that goes on in my head when I’m not home with everyone, assuming they need me all the time, without taking in to consideration that Anton’s strength is coming back, and that he does well to be useful, he just needs time to do chores. This plays into my feelings now that I’m on leave until the end of June, questioning if I’ve done the right thing regarding my ‘career’ vs being that stay-at-home Mum and Wife while taking care of my family.

But the truth is, we need each other now. We need the time to grow into our roles and to make the memories, and I need to be a calm in the storm for my girls. And I also need is discipline to set goals for myself. So maybe what I am asking you is- check with me weekly to ask how the drivers licence is going, and how much French I’ve spoken, and what have I been reading, because for the last 2 weeks, I’ve done none of the above.

On this note, I’ll sign off this ramble. It’s a little lighter than normal. But it’s my May scribbles noted. Complete with a Paris rundown.

We’ve got tickets booked for SA this summer. It’s going to be a very weird trip, but one that needs to be done. A month ago I had reservations about Anton’s mobility getting around but following the week just past, I have hopes this his health and morale is on an upwards tangent. And honestly, rather a vacation in a place that’s familiar than one that, well, isn’t. At this point in our lives.

A quick update on the medical condition: Anton’s third week of blood tests has come back normal, so platelets are normal, white blood cells are a little higher but well within normal ranges, and they are not low. Red blood cells are normal as well. We did have to shave his hair earlier in the week as he had started to lose silly tufts at the location of the radiation beam. As far as the chemo goes, he’s still great, his appetite is normal although I’m banned from cooking spicy aromatic food and apparently even garlic is an issue. Merde! We are half way through the treatment now and I am content with how we’re doing. Long may it last. I am personally feeling more hopeful.

Anyway, on that note, I bid you adieu. Enjoy the rest of the month. Chat next month,

All my love,

GC.

** Not all train trips are romantic. Local city trains and those that run from small town to small town are not the same. Forgive me and my and my rather broad brushstrokes.