A Bridge Between Worlds….?

Tags

France, French, Health, kids, Language, Learning, Norway, Norwegian, Tourism

I’m currently working in a campsite here in a very, very hot and sunny France.

Today I had the pleasure of helping out a young Norwegian family.

They came in, looking very flustered, telling me that they needed to to see a doctor, as their eldest daughter – who was the grand old age of two – had a rash that was spreading, and they wanted to take action before it got any worse. I ran a search on the internet, printed out a list of local doctors, and gave them all the relevant info.

“Ah….. yes…..” the mother of the family said, looking at me with despair in her eyes: “But although we speak English – we don’t speak any French”.

Oh. Dear.

Luckily for them however, I’ve been living here a while, so I thought I might be up to the task. Nothing ventured nothing gained, eh?

I rang up the doctor. He answered. He clearly wasn’t a natural-born Francophone.

So here we were. A Norwegian family who didn’t speak French. An Englishman who didn’t speak French well. And a doctor from parts unknown.

Thankfully it all worked out and they managed to get an appointment for just a couple of hours later.

They will let me know if everything is ok with their little one as soon as they can.

Me? I’m just happy that my language skills are better than I expected. Or maybe it’s one of those extreme pressure-type situations, where your brain works at a higher rate than normal.

Now if I could only figure out how to make it work like that all the time…..

The French, As Adorable And As Stubborn As Mules…

Tags

cultural differences, Ex Pat, France, French, funny, Habits, Humor, Life, Tourism, Travel

OK, so that’s a title and a half for a blog post, but bear with me, I’ll explain.

You see one of the things I love about French people is their frequent absolute refusal to do things in what I see as a logical, straightforward manner.

I should add this is just my opinion, and yours may well differ (he said diplomatically).

As an example of this I will tell you a little story from the other year, when I was working in a local travel and tourism office.

We had a village event coming up, a very popular, well attended event that spanned one entire weekend and happened every year. We had all the posters up advertising the event, but were still waiting for the programmes to arrive, with all the times of the various activities that were planned for that weekend.

The most frequent question we were asked – on the phone, and in person – in the days leading up to the event was: ‘Do you have the programme for the event yet?’.

The day finally came and we were informed that we would be receiving the infamous programmes, and so we could give them out to the locals and allow them to see what was in store.

The programmes arrived. They were delivered to another building, 500 meters away.

I offered to go and get them, and the conversation went a little like this:

Me: The programmes are here, down the road, shall I go and get them?

Colleague: Oh no, they are in a box, and the box is heavy, we will have to wait till we can get them delivered. I will contact the mayor.

Me: But people want them, and they’re not far away – I could take the trolley (indicating a small trolley we use to move heavy items around)

Colleague: Oh, but that will take a long time and the box is heavy.

Me: But that’s what the trolley is for.

Colleague: No.

Me: Well how about this? I go down, open the box, and bring up enough leaflets to hand out to people, then at least the ones who have asked for them will be happy.

Colleague: (long pause) (lots of blinking) No. No, the box is heavy. We will contact the mayor.

The programmes did finally arrive in our office.

Several days later.

A Very Poor Reception – But On The Bright Side My French Is Getting Better…

Tags

France, French, funny, holidays, Hotels, Humor, languages, Learning, Tourism, Travel

 

There’s nothing worse than rolling up at your holiday location for the week only to find that A) there’s nobody home and B) the number you have for them doesn’t work. These were the unfortunate circumstances we found ourselves in at the start of our recent holiday, and so headed over the road to a lovely hotel/restaurant with commanding views of the local lake, to seek help.

Upon entering I looked around and saw a couple sat down enjoying their late dinner (it was around 2pm). I assumed they were guests and bid them a cheery ‘bonjour!’. They responded, in a slightly nonplussed way, and got up to see what I wanted, frowns creasing their faces.

They weren’t guests. They were the owners.

After digging and probing them for a few minutes they begrudgingly offered up the fact that the owners of the gite we wanted access to lived at the rear of the property, and we should head there.

‘I told you we should have closed that door’ said the manageress to her husband as they stalked back to their dinner. I exited the building – walking past the sign that read ‘Bienvenue, ouvert midi et soir’ – and returned to relay the information to my partner.

Following our successful entry, and much warmer welcome by the couple who ran the gite, we decided to put the earlier experience down as a ‘one off’ and headed back over the road to the hotel. We tried their take-out menu, however we hedged our bets and just bought three portions of chips – nothing fancy, just something to keep us going.

It turned out the chef was also the manager. I discovered this fact because as I waited for the chips to cook I took a stroll around the building and – through the windows –  saw him walking around in the kitchen, gesticulating wildly and swearing to himself loudly in French.

I was glad I’d only ordered three bags of chips, and not the roast chicken too as I was tempted to do. Who knows what his reaction would have been.

After paying for the chips (‘Haven’t you got any change?’ the manageress said to me, after querying my paying of the 4 Euro 50 bill with a ten Euro note) we headed back over and scoffed them down (My partner dismissing my suggestion that ‘We should use a blacklight to check for bodily fluids’ as an overreaction).

Following a suitable rest we headed out to try the pool, something the kids had been harping on about since we arrived. We were shortly joined by the gite owners, who explained that they went for a refreshing swim every day with their guests, as it allowed them to have a chat and get to know them.

I swam down to the far end of the pool, which gave you a view of the hotel across the road and was probably about 15 feet away from it. As I paddled there the topic of conversation amongst us swung around to the owners across the road. I said that it was a shame that such a lovely building was run by a couple who were incredibly unwelcoming, and made you feel like you were an inconvenience to them when you went in. I did wonder if it was just us though, or maybe – more to the point – just me?

The gite owners both shook their heads and told us that it wasn’t just us and went on to inform us of many occasions when guests had been refused service, had been shouted at by the owners and how they had a low occupancy rate (despite the mayor of the village investing 800k Euros in upgrading the hotel in a bid to make it a ‘tourist trap’) solely due to the owners’ attitudes.

‘If they don’t want to run it’ I said ‘Why don’t they just sell it to people that would be happy with it and make it successful? You can tell they hate being there’. The gite owners agreed with me, then towelled themselves dry and headed back inside.

As I paddled back to the rear of the pool and my partner frolicked with the kids I heard a loud chirping noise, and looked over the rear edge of the pool to see the manageress of the hotel glaring up at me from the road.

‘I heard your commentary’ she screeched, before heading off back inside the hotel and slamming the door.

‘Hey’ I said to my partner, a smile spreading across my face ‘She heard my comments, that means she understood me, I guess my French IS getting better’.

The Cemetery Of Saint-Floret – or – A Tomb With A View…

Tags

France, French, Hiking, History, photography, Photos, Tourism, Travel

The cemetery above Saint-Floret can be accessed via a relatively challenging, 15 minute walk/hike. This route, while the quickest, is not recommended for those that struggle with inclines, or families with small children. It could also be viewed as somewhat dangerous to attempt it during inclement weather. Happily there is a longer, safer route up to the graveyard or, if walking is not your thing, then it can be accessed via car, with a car park at its base.

 

As you will see from the following photographs your ascent, whichever way you decide to undertake it, is rewarded with some stunning views…

 

The Venetian Carnival In The Gardens Of Mehun-sur-Yèvre…

Tags

Culture, France, French, History, photography, Tourism, Venice

With its roots in the Middle Ages, Mehun-sur-Yèvre is known as one of the “Most beautiful detours of France”, and is famous for its history with Joan of Arc. A walk through the cobbled streets of this quaint town brought us the arresting sight of the Venetian Carnival, a two day festival where the participants parade through the town adorned in ever more elaborate masks and gowns.

The procession eventually made its way to the majestic ruins of the castle of King Charles VII, and it was here, on a gloriously sunny Sunday, that I managed to capture most, if not all, of the participants…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some Shots Of Our New French Town…

Tags

ex-pat, France, French, funny, Humor, photography, stay-at-home Dad, Tourism

So we’ve been living in Aubigny-sur-Nère for just over two months now and I thought it was high time that I shared a few shots of this beautiful place.

 

For a bit of history on the town I will defer to that esteemed internet resource, Wikipedia, which I will now shamelessly copy and paste from:

 

Aubigny-sur-Nère is a commune in the Cher department in the Centre region of France. An area of forestry and farming surround this small, light industrial town, situated in the valley of the river Nère. It is some 30 miles (48km) north of Bourges at the junction of the D940, D924, D30 and the D923 roads.

 

First known as Albinacum in Roman times, the commune was established as a royal town in 1189 by Phillip II. This is the location by which the Duke of Gordon gets his honorific title, as the Duke of Aubigny. In 1419, John Stewart of Darnley, a junior member of the House of Stuart, arrived in France with a large contingent of Scottish soldiers, to fight for Charles VII. He was awarded many titles, among them the Lordship of Aubigny. The family stayed here for 400 years.

Aubigny is a common tourist destination for Scots and others from the United Kingdom. The commune is very attached to the Auld Alliance due to its 400 years of French-Scottish history and is the only place in France that still celebrates this long association each year, on Bastille Day. It is twinned with the Scottish town of Haddington East Lothian.

 

You still with me? Did you get all that? Because I will be asking questions at the end of the photograph section!

 

It’s difficult to stop once you get started taking photographs here, there’s that much that is appealing to the eye you see. It particularly ‘pops’ when the weather is with you, as it was when I captured it in the following pictures.

 

 

I hope you enjoyed looking at these shots of my town, so now, when I go on about how happy I am living here, you may be able to appreciate the reasons why.

 

Also the local baker’s chocolate balls are to die for: