a return to the country.
the following day, I am pleased the to wake up back in bazouge. it's 8a.m. and I hear the church bells toll in the distance woven amongst bird songs and the hushed sound of the wind blowing through my window. from my most delightful room, the cool air is invigorated by a smell of the freshly cut wheat fields, and I breathe deep to take in the morning.
today is the first day that I feel a premature twinge at the thought of returning home... and perhaps ridiculously so as I still have a little more than 2 months to my stay. yet, it remains that even in this short period I have experienced an unparalleled sense of peace and content, and have altogether become extremely pleased with this equal mixture of culture and countryside.
increasingly so, the lifestyle here seems quite fitting to my natural own, stressing an economic simplicity and based in conservation. nearly all homes are backed by a garden in which residents grow a portion of their own food; the refrigerators remain small and are often half the american size while still storing food for up to a family of 8; and there is an extensive recycling program accompanied by a general incline to limit the use of your water, electricity, and gas. more pleasingly still, the roads here are utterly devoid of the once pressing dominance of the SUV, and even the utility trucks would be considered small by our standards. that being said and a reinforced claim to $6 gas prices, many people simply opt to ride their bikes across this rolling country in combined use with france's ample train system.
these are just few of the more obvious cultural twists that seem so appropriate to a now familiar mindset, and even those customs in the peripheries are ones far from a more impacting deviation. by example, a trip to the supermarket, where though markedly lacking in faux-vegetarian substance, typically involves passing down aisles of (perhaps even better) whole foods that are fresh in smell and untouched by preservatives. even the comparatively small produce section, intended only to supplement those fruits and vegetables grown at home, provide some of the most delicious organics I've ever tasted. holding to my claim, it was just the other day that I was so overwhelmed by the juicy, sweet flesh of a peach and then later had a most amazing (though unfamiliar) variety of melon. perhaps slightly more unaccustomed to my grocery store sensibilities is finding of two entire aisles of yogurt with an unparalleled variety, and then followed by another of unrefrigerated, fresh milk.
with as minor as some of these differences remain, and keeping perspective that the admittedly limiting language barrier is just a mere challenge to overcome, I already feel such a natural ease in making these undaunting cultural adjustments. with that, I can't help to begin a rambling temptation of various (though some slightly implausible) possibilities to extend my stay. still, only the birds persist in being more encouraging of the thought.
tonight there are thunderclouds approaching, and the sky is cast in that prestorm glow of a golden hue that softly merges with the wheat fields. a swift wind picks up and carries the rumbling sounds from a distance across the rolling hills and to the very doorstep I'm seated upon, and a few overripe pears blow off their ridged stems to land with a pleasing 'thud' on the ground. I wish to myself for a day to share such sights with another; and I think of the history that brought sandy and yann to this point.
as my comfort with this temporary family grows, though admittedly still bearing the awkwardness of sharing their home, sandy now jokingly calls me 'sweetie' and leon delightfully greets me as 'keh-ye' in his 3 year old voice. assuredly, this only feeds my attachment to the setting; and so I try to convince myself that it wouldn't be as pleasant if there was no one to share an english conversation with, nor to be so kind as to guide me around these local sights. no, I must recognize the idealization of it all as I continue to work short days of painting and other pleasures, stopping only to join them for delicious meals, and maybe a little active playtime with leon... of course, of course! who wouldn't fall in love under this context? now, I must only ask myself, "where's the struggle in it all?"
today is the first day that I feel a premature twinge at the thought of returning home... and perhaps ridiculously so as I still have a little more than 2 months to my stay. yet, it remains that even in this short period I have experienced an unparalleled sense of peace and content, and have altogether become extremely pleased with this equal mixture of culture and countryside.
increasingly so, the lifestyle here seems quite fitting to my natural own, stressing an economic simplicity and based in conservation. nearly all homes are backed by a garden in which residents grow a portion of their own food; the refrigerators remain small and are often half the american size while still storing food for up to a family of 8; and there is an extensive recycling program accompanied by a general incline to limit the use of your water, electricity, and gas. more pleasingly still, the roads here are utterly devoid of the once pressing dominance of the SUV, and even the utility trucks would be considered small by our standards. that being said and a reinforced claim to $6 gas prices, many people simply opt to ride their bikes across this rolling country in combined use with france's ample train system.
these are just few of the more obvious cultural twists that seem so appropriate to a now familiar mindset, and even those customs in the peripheries are ones far from a more impacting deviation. by example, a trip to the supermarket, where though markedly lacking in faux-vegetarian substance, typically involves passing down aisles of (perhaps even better) whole foods that are fresh in smell and untouched by preservatives. even the comparatively small produce section, intended only to supplement those fruits and vegetables grown at home, provide some of the most delicious organics I've ever tasted. holding to my claim, it was just the other day that I was so overwhelmed by the juicy, sweet flesh of a peach and then later had a most amazing (though unfamiliar) variety of melon. perhaps slightly more unaccustomed to my grocery store sensibilities is finding of two entire aisles of yogurt with an unparalleled variety, and then followed by another of unrefrigerated, fresh milk.
with as minor as some of these differences remain, and keeping perspective that the admittedly limiting language barrier is just a mere challenge to overcome, I already feel such a natural ease in making these undaunting cultural adjustments. with that, I can't help to begin a rambling temptation of various (though some slightly implausible) possibilities to extend my stay. still, only the birds persist in being more encouraging of the thought.
tonight there are thunderclouds approaching, and the sky is cast in that prestorm glow of a golden hue that softly merges with the wheat fields. a swift wind picks up and carries the rumbling sounds from a distance across the rolling hills and to the very doorstep I'm seated upon, and a few overripe pears blow off their ridged stems to land with a pleasing 'thud' on the ground. I wish to myself for a day to share such sights with another; and I think of the history that brought sandy and yann to this point.
as my comfort with this temporary family grows, though admittedly still bearing the awkwardness of sharing their home, sandy now jokingly calls me 'sweetie' and leon delightfully greets me as 'keh-ye' in his 3 year old voice. assuredly, this only feeds my attachment to the setting; and so I try to convince myself that it wouldn't be as pleasant if there was no one to share an english conversation with, nor to be so kind as to guide me around these local sights. no, I must recognize the idealization of it all as I continue to work short days of painting and other pleasures, stopping only to join them for delicious meals, and maybe a little active playtime with leon... of course, of course! who wouldn't fall in love under this context? now, I must only ask myself, "where's the struggle in it all?"
posted by Kellie Moore at 8:00 AM
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