There’s a moment when you are experiencing something new, that things change. One second you are soaking as much information into your brain as you can in, which roads to take, where the best shops are, or even people’s names that you may have to ask them to remind you over and over again. Everything’s new, everything’s exciting. Then one day it just becomes your life, without even thinking you know the best route to your favorite store, which roads not to drive down because they are a one way and you don’t want to get stuck doing that again, and you recognize people by their voices or laughs and already know their names by heart. You’re comfortable, you’ve adapted, your home.
I don’t know when it happened, the moment where my experience turned from me still thinking I was a tourist in this beautiful country, to me feeling like this is my life now and fitting into the daily groove perfectly. I am not just a visitor here in Ireland anymore, I live here now. And I love every second of it! The past holiday months has been crazy busy. I learned a lot about a traditional Irish Christmas. I would have to say that the main thing I learned is that alcohol goes into everything over here, the cakes, the drinks, even the mashed potatoes! Also the holiday spirit is high no matter where you go. I noticed here the emphasis on focusing on the holiday and its meaning of giving and Christ’s birth instead of the commercial aspect of it and receiving the presents. I really enjoyed that. I also had family come visit me! My aunt Jen and cousin Britney came and spent a week here in Ireland with me then we jumped the pond over to England. I am saving that experience for the next post because there’s just so much I need to write about that. So the next few posts will be out of order, but that’s ok. I want to capture everything perfectly, giving each experience its own entry so I don’t want to forget about it. Because the sad thing is, if we don’t write the experiences we have down, someday down the road we will forget about the little details of the adventure and if were not careful we could forget we did it at all. So here’s to remembering France…… From the moment I stepped off the plane, the atmosphere felt different. I never know how to explain it but when traveling to a new country it’s like that country has a heartbeat of its own. Different from what you’re used to but you recognize the excitement of a new culture and experience. It took me less than 30 seconds to fully understand what my first obstacle in France would be. The language barrier. I’ve always been fortunate enough to know - or at least understand- the native language of the countries I’ve visited so far. By the time I reached the immigration line and I handed my American passport over to the very resigned French officer I learned that I had the little French I had learned from Beauty and the Beast growing up was not going to take me as far as I had hoped. Thank goodness smiles are universal. My host family and I had flown into Geneva Switzerland, a beautiful country blanketed in snow and I loved watching the homes light up as the last bit of sunlight faded away and the moon took its place in the sky. It was like I was watching a real life portrait come to life. The people of Switzerland, or at least the ones I met, were very nice and helpful. The shops were all kept nice and clean, the roads busy just like back home, and the merchandise expensive! The sandwich I had for lunch cost the equivalent of 10 US dollars! Coming from America, and especially living on a border town, I was surprised to see that there were no border checks when driving from Switzerland to France. I had my passport ready and the words from “Be Our Guest” floating through my mind (you know, in case I needed to impress any French border agents with my French skills) but our driver didn’t even slow his pace as we drove over the country lines and into France. The ride was beautiful, as we were on a skiing holiday our driver soon left the busy city and wound us through the beautiful mountain sides covered in snow, frozen waterfalls, and quaint little towns. And yes, I did even get to see a French castle from a distance and yes, I bet its run by every day household appliances that sing and controlled by a beast just like in the movie. Our Chalet in Les Gets France was beautiful, a huge house all to our own that was nestled right off the slopes. It literally took us one minute to grab the ski gear and be out on the slopes. However nice the Chalet was, it did not come with wifi. I’m not going to lie, I felt like a fish out of water the first day! My hands kept searching for things to do, I felt like I was missing out on great conversations that I would have been texting with friends and family, and I missed the overall convenience that our phones bring us. The internet. The first day was hard. The second day I walked into town looking like a weirdo trying to pick up free wifi outside of the shops. But after I was able to check in and let everyone l know I had arrived, I felt better. As the days went on I let myself admit that it was kind of nice to be unplugged. To get back to basics and view the world around me instead of through the lens of the media. Instead of sitting on our phones and tablets at night like we would have done if we had wifi, we gathered around the table and played games, talked around the fire, watched movies uninterrupted by a text message or breaking story. My phone that was previously always glued to my hand, started to be left on my bedside table. My fingers didn’t fidget and I felt this relaxation come over me. It was nice to not have the world at my fingertips. It was peaceful. And it was something that I had needed to do for a long time but I never understood until that moment that I needed to do it. The town was beautiful, the French were mostly nice- and when they weren’t they were talking bad about you in French but lucky I knew the universal frown for "Whats your problem?"- and some of them smelled, just like the fermented cheese in some of the shops. The food was AMAZING (albeit expensive). I had the best hot chocolate ever filled to what seemed like the roof with cream and I promise that France has the best French fries I’ve ever tasted! I’m not even ashamed to admit that I ate them for lunch every day. They were that good! I even took a chocolate class where the kids and I learned how to make delicate chocolate delicacies by a lady who spoke limited English but knew how to work with chocolate like no ones business. Les Gets had the cutest little shops that sold everything from commercial mugs and ski gear everywhere to the smaller shops that sold things only a mother would love. People from all over the world came to stay here so there were shops tailored to cultures around the world. You had the Canadian grill, the down under Australian Bar (their burger was AMAZING), to the Asian markets. I would shop and listen as people spoke of their countries, their time on their slopes, or their wild night out the night before. It was funny to see how people saw the world, what they thought was important, and what they chose to take the time to talk about. I had both some of the most exciting conversations of my life and some of the dullest conversations of my life with complete strangers in France and really it all boiled down to how each person saw the world and their time in it. I did find this one shop that was nestled in the bottom of a mountain, so small you wouldn’t even know it was there. I had to climb down some slippery steps and away from the main traffic of the town to get to it, and yeah I’m not going to lie, I wondered if a shady looking place like this shop could get me killed, but I kept walking any way. Sorry mom and dad! The shop was a small little thing. Probably only the size of a 20 ft by 20 ft room crammed with everything and anything a person could ever think to collect. It was run by a little old French lady who spoke nothing but French and a few lines of English she had learned in her youth such as, “What’s groovy American!” It sounds even funnier coming from this lady with a missing front tooth and a thick french accent. I spent about an hour in this shop with the little old lady. She sat and documented her inventory, drank tea, cleaned her only window to the shop, and lit more candles to bring light into her little store. All the while I looked around. We didn’t talk. But I learned that we didn’t need too. She watched me as I studied the treasures she collected over the years thinking they were special enough to her and that someday she would find someone who thought it was special to them. I could see the light it brought to her eyes when I admired a chipped tea set, an old cabinet, a small antique pair of little girls shoes, and all the while I wondered where in the world she found some of these things. They all had stories, a special memory to her, but I would never know exactly what besides the way she looked at me and the mutual understanding we both had of her love for the things she had collected. After an hour of rummaging and even though her shop wasn’t big at all, I had only made a dent in her collection. I paid for a small little tea cup with a rose design, the little old lady admiring it in her hands as if saying a final goodbye to something that was once so special to her. I could tell she wished we could speak and she could convey how, when, or why she picked up this little cup in the first place, but all she said as I walked out of the shop and turned to say goodbye was, “Beautiful.” I ended going back to her little shop every day. I would spend an hour in another little section finding new treasures that had a story. In that time not many people came in if any at all, and I wondered how she afforded to keep her shop in business and the thought made me sad. She had spent her life collecting things that brought her joy hoping to one day spread it to others. But she never let her worry show, she did what she did every day I was there, kept inventory, drank tea, and cleaned her only window that let people know she was open. And every day I bought something new, a new treasure that was once hers and was now mine to carry with me on my adventures of my own. Wanting to help her in any way I could, I always over paid for my little treasures. At first she tried giving me back my change, trying to find the English words to tell me not to worry, but I shook my head and covered the money in her palm. I wanted her to have it. She would take a breath, give a sweet smile and nod. Each day we did this, and on the final day she smiled and handed me a small mountain flower she had picked that morning. I think she knew I was leaving, that I wouldn’t be coming back, and her parting gift, though small, meant the world to me. My time in France was amazing. It went by quickly yet peacefully. I spent the mornings watching the sun rise over the mountains, the days admiring the snow falling in perfect little individual forms to the earth to become part of something bigger, and the nights admiring how the little villages came to life with fire and light one house at a time. I remembered the importance of slowing life down. In this day in age we can get so absorbed into our daily lives and activities, always running somewhere to do something that probably won’t matter in five years. I needed a break from the constant movement of life and social media and the sad thing was I didn’t even know it was something I needed. If we take the time to slow down and let everything else rush by, we’ll have a clearer focus on what’s important to us in life, the people we come in contact with who have great stories we only need to understand if we listen or watch, and the opportunities that pass us by when we are glued to our devices or entrapped in our own selves. Sometimes all we have to do is literally stop and smell the mountain flowers. Admire something that we once cherished that maybe we’ve forgotten about. Write a friend or a family member we haven’t spoken to. And sometimes it’s as simple as sitting at a window and watching as the world moves by. Sometimes we have to let everything go, and see what’s important enough to stay.
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AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
February 2016
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