Spirituality
Callum on June 18, 2009:
“God is hiding in the clouds. Jesus was here and used magic so there would be no more madness. When he was killed by the evil guys God sent a bomb and it went BOOM and the bad guys died in the sky. Now God is everywhere and no where.”
PAUSE
“And I love mommy and I love Daddy and I love myself and my mommy loves me.”
I am continually amazed at my child’s acuity regarding spiritual matters. He is intrigued by the churches and monasteries; he can spend copious amounts of time considering the meaning of a religious painting or sculpture. Callum asks questions that would cause a pope to pause and on bended knee give thanks.
Epiphanies
I am resigned to not being able to thwart all the bad habits my son is determined to acquire. Nail biting, fascination with his penis, mimicking Star Wars characters, all of these I must submit to as being part of childhood. I wonder if snot-eating is universal?
My mother informs me that 4 year olds ask, on average, 437 questions a day.
The culture of some women here is beyond what I can imagine for myself, and yet I wonder if it is sheer jealousy. Part of it is that things cost more here than in Canada. When my Québécoise friend Isabelle came to visit she talked to a local who’s lived here all his life. He said the adoption of the Euro in 2002 caused prices to rise 30%. Other sources have confirmed this spike in living costs. Consequently, people who live here can pay more for things and not cringe like I do. They’ve had time to adjust. For example, 38 Euros for spectacular tea; 27 Pounds for a particularly effective and vibrating mascara. Maybe it’s that I’m not particularly girly or because I struggle specifically and consistently with balancing finances in my life, but I will not be purchasing these items. I have, however, bought in the U.K. (with the loving encouragement of my husband) a fantastic pair of black shoes made by KG (Kurt Geiger). They were 50% off of course, but they are the first sexy pair of heels I have purchased since I met Colin 10.5 years ago and they are fine. Fabulous fit, classic and sensual. They are the first step towards overcoming the dowdiness of motherhood where nothing is sacred and everything is stained. They are the symbol of me taking back womanhood and saying the 40’s are sexy and I’m coming home (to Victoria) with all the style of a French bird but at German prices and in U.K. sizes.
Callum has proclaimed to me that he has become much stronger from climbing the stairs up to our flat two or more times a day.
I asked him, “In what way are you stronger?”
He replied, “My hands are stronger from holding onto the railing.”
Parking, Rules and Rebellion
Mike and Mary Jane (also from Victoria) were over and a conversation about French parking ensued.
Colin talked about how much he hates the French parking – at night time in particular they park on sidewalks, on corners, back to front, up on curbs, wherever and however they can manage to squeak their tiny tin cans in they’ll park them, regardless of how much obstruction it causes for people who are walking by.
Mike countered with how much he loves how the French park. Wherever he can find a space he can park his car, even if it’s with only inches to spare.
I pointed out that it’s the difference in perspective between being a driver and a pieton (pedestrian). Personally, I find the French ingenious. There are all these parking rules but none of them apply at night or at the lake or during festivals or other times of high camaraderie like the first two weeks of August when most people are on vacation and parking is free in our neighbourhood. There are also customs here regarding parking that would make my dad’s hair fall out, or be pulled out. It is not at all unusual for people to bump their car into a parking spot if there isn’t quite enough room. Colin jokes that the “Used Car Lots” here are more accurately termed “Predented Car Lots”. Unspoken rules abound in every culture, and unspoken breakage of rules is allowed too. But in France there are more rules than in most countries so there is more breakage and rebellion, and they not only acknowledge it, they celebrate it.
When Sam (a friend of mine from England) and I attended the national celebrations (Fete Nationale) in Parc Paul Mistral, there were many tweenies and teenagers setting off bottle rockets in the area that was initially built for the 1968 Olympic Speed Skating events. Instead of scoffing, getting annoyed or trying to dissuade these kids, people cheered. “Hip hip hooray!” “You’re rebelling - Vive le France!” That is what the national day is all about.
Doggies Do
For the most part I have avoided stepping in doo-doo of the political, theoretical or literal kind, but there is a lot of dog poo that needs to be avoided here. The shop keepers are magic at cleaning the area directly in front of them and there are many spaces dedicated to dogs on the edge of every official square and park, but there are persistent owners who consistently let their large dogs defecate in public places. My family has, by and large, learned to avoid stepping in these hazard zones; has developed a sixth sense about mounds of brown. We are learning. Maybe we can’t talk in full sentences in the language of our adopted country, but we are able to avoid some of the pitfalls of urban living despite residing in the heart of the city.
Grenoble, Geneva and Freiburg with Friends
We had my friend Stella and her two kids (Lucas - 5; Seelja - 2) visit with us in Grenoble for a few days. They are friends of ours from Victoria. It was wonderful reconnecting with them and Callum loved having Canadian (English-speaking) friends here. They played non-stop. Stella and I talked non-stop. We had long involved anthropological and mothering-type conversations on the balcony every night while listening to crickets and consuming minty lime drinks. Colin was tolerant of the noise level.
Callum was a terrific host, street safety guard and tour guide. On Saturday, June 13th we went to Allevard (a French village) for the sheep festival. 3,000 sheep were herded down the city streets. Sunday we hung out at Du Bois Francais, a swimming lake with a playground and huge green space. It was 31 degrees. Colin reveled in relaxing at the lake, reading his book and getting into great discussions with our friends Mike and Mary Jane (and their daughter Nicole - 6)*. They moved here in October from Victoria. It's a relief and a comfort to talk to people who understand our struggles, adventures and elations so clearly. They also understand my fascination with sheep!
*Mike, Mary Jane and Nicole have since moved back to Victoria. We’re happy for them and we miss them.
On the Monday we took Stella, Lucas and Seelja up La Bastille, through the Mandrin Caves (which was intense without flashlights – they are the caves that the mountain troops hid out in as a back-up in case La Bastille was taken by opposing forces) and down under the streets to the Roman ruins. The next day Callum and I headed to Freiburg, Germany with them. Freiburg is where Stella grew up. Her parents still live there.
Freiburg
We had a great time in Freiburg. Stella’s parents are interesting, intelligent and gracious hosts. Their home and its location (it backs onto the Black Forest) were both intriguing and restful. Stella is game, so we climbed with the kids to the top of the Munster tower, explored Freiburg by foot and discovered amazing playgrounds, wooden toys and cobblestone streets.
I couldn’t believe how at home I felt in Germany. The sizes fit, the colours of the buildings resonated (bright and bold), the prices were reasonable and the quality of everything from shoes to toys to washcloths was prime. I remembered a lot of German language from my teenage years at Westgate Mennonite Collegiate, but also the straightforwardness of the people was a relief after the stylistic and arms length attitude of the French. Stella’s parents were particularly welcoming. Much to the delight of Callum and Lucas, Stella’s dad chain-sawed down a cherry tree in their presence, and Stella’s mom was so knowledgeable about herbs and their effects that she could’ve starred as the fairy queen in Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night.
All in all it was a wonderful visit full of laughter, play, conversation and understanding.
And it was interesting to compare and contrast the French vs. the German attitude. One striking difference was in how they present their homes. According to Stella’s sister, the Germans tend to make the outside look great. It’s important to them to take care of the external presentation. It’s showing respect for the neighbours. For the French, it’s important to present a humble exterior and to invest in the interior. This explains why at times the French buildings look so derelict. Now that I know it relates to humility I can deal with the bleak buildings of our semi-Alpine town.
We returned home to Grenoble by train on Thursday, June 18. It was a quick trip but Callum had a choir performance and his graduation ceremony on the Friday and we couldn’t miss it. A choir performance by 150 3 - 6 year olds - would YOU miss it?
Also, all our earthly belongings were scheduled to and actually did arrive at 8:00 am on Saturday, June 20th. George and Tony delivered it up two flights of stairs. Tony was built like Hercules. He’s in his late 50’s and didn’t even break a sweat or do any heavy breathing until they had to tackle the King-sized mattress.
After six months I learned to live without our “stuff”. What’s in those boxes anyways? Camping equipment, creative supplies, books, journals, snowboarding and ski gear, it’s actually very useful and entirely seasonal or “on a whim” type stuff. I think people of my generation with numerous interests were meant to have garages.*
Note*: We do have CAVES here, but they are very damp and periodically flooded by the melting of the alpine snow and the subsequent convergence of the Dragon and Snake Rivers. People in Grenoble mainly use their CAVES for the storing of wine. Not a pretentious action, just a practical solution to inadequate storage.
Colin was accidentally (read: conveniently ;^)) gone when the boxes arrived from Canada/the Suez Canal/Liverpool. He left for England for 10 days on the Friday. What was unfortunate was that June 20th was also Callum’s birthday. We celebrated in Germany with Lucas and Seelja, celebrated on the day by indulging in his favourite foods – ribs and gelato, and we’ll celebrate again (avec Dad) when Owen comes to visit in July. Callum was aching for a big birthday party but it just wasn’t realistic this year … especially since his desired guest list included his Canadian friends and cousins, his U.K. relatives and their dogs, and all 25 French kids from his Moyen class and the neighbour’s cat (Mimi).
On Sunday, June 21st my French-Canadian friend Isabelle arrived. I was very much looking forward to her visit but not looking forward to speaking French in front of her. I needn’t have worried. She was instructive, patient and even complimented my pronunciation! What surprised me was that people could tell she was Quebecois after two spoken words. Wow.
Time with Isabelle was intense. She is single with an intense community medical career and was dove-tailing her visit in Grenoble with a seminar in Geneva and a bicycle trip through Italy. We’ve known each other for about 20 years and my time with her was precious.
I had a parent - teacher interview with Isabelle as interpreter, and Callum received his first report card. The teacher noted that Callum is particularly brave (speaks out, participates and is a leader), compassionate (helps other kids and rescues bugs), vocal (tells long stories) and well-liked (everyone knows him and he does well on the playground). What he needs to work on is penmanship, following the rules, and French (obviously). He has passed his class (Moyen or Medium) and is moving on to the Grande Section for next year. His teacher and school support people believe he will be bilingual by Christmas 2009.
With Isabelle Callum and I went up to the St. Pierre de Chartreuse Museum of the Carthusian Order of Monks and Nuns (near the Monastery and started by St. Bruno). We were given the wrong information about the bus times and ended up having to hitchhike back down out of the Alps. It was a bit intense, especially since Isabelle needed to catch an early train to Geneva.
Isabelle was exceedingly generous during her time here. She brought dinner in one night and paid babysitting and for dinner another night so that she and I could go out and have adult time. It was such a treat. What a great way to experience Grenoble anew. Colin was sad to miss her visit. She is someone we know will be in our lives all our lives.
Colin had a good time in England. He ate lots of curries, was successful with his installation, enjoyed the folks he worked with and on the weekend reveled in the company of his best English mate Mark while consuming pints and pies. He arrived back home around 11 pm Sunday night. The unfortunate part was that he was ill during his visit with Mark. The great part was that Col was highly commended for his on-site commissioning in Chippenham (sounds like a sandwich!) and he hopes to go on-site again soon.
Tuesday I have my French exam. Wish me luck!
Callum is finished school on July 2nd.
Goals for July
- We'll tackle our load of boxes and really move in.
- We'll likely spend lots of time at the pool and the lake.
- On the week of the 15th Colin is taking holidays. Don't know where we're going yet but it needs to be cheap!
- In a few weeks Callum's best friend Owen comes to visit (with our friends/Owen's parents Carly and Bob).
I especially want to thank all of you for Callum's birthday gifts. He felt well loved and was very happy with his variety of gifts (clothes, books, games, toys, trampoline, the Wii). Everything fit perfectly and has already been well used.
Hope you are well.
We love you loads.
Talk to you soon!
xox,
Ramona
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