*I want to just document that I am sitting in the living room with my grandma; she is watching TV with her headphones, I am typing. Even though I am not watching the movie she is watching, even though the sound is muted for me, she occasionally comments on what is happening, as if I could join in the conversation and comment on the plot of the movie with her. It is very funny to me. I am so happy to be back here, the place where I spent so many days of my childhood and that feels so cozy and homely, like a warm blanket that hugs me.*
There are so many things that I wish I could document and put into words from the three weeks that I spent in Brittany, so many moments that I hold in my heart. I have been keeping a travel journal and wrote down beautiful moments every day to not forget, but let me summarize at least a few of my favorite memories.
I cherish the memories of breakfast with Helene and Dominique every morning. It was such a nice start to the day, chatting with them a little bit, getting updates on what Helene had already done – mostly clear out the dishwasher and put out the pot to heat up milk for Dominique’s café au lait. I really miss Helene’s positive, cheerful attitude and the way she would laugh and get excited about the birds flying around the kitchen, and how she would point out all the new (and old) spots of dirt on the kitchen counter and tell me “ohhh Lena, cochon!!!” (Which, literally translated means pig).
I also am so grateful for all the times that Sophie took me out kayaking. Every time we went, the ocean felt different, we saw different things, we went different places. I’m not sure I managed to captivate how incredibly emotional the immense beauty of the ocean was to me. So many times I started tearing up just because the color of the water was so overwhelmingly full, because the reflection of the sunset tinted everything around us in an orange glow, because the waves of the ocean first made it seem like we were on an amazing adventure in the middle of a storm (going against the waves), and then trapped in the closed palms of a sleeping giant as we were paddling with the waves and seemed to be going nowhere, controlled completely by the enormous body of water beneath us.
It was beautiful to see Sophie play and swim with her baby seal. It was beautiful to feel the seal nibble at my feet in a gesture of trust. And every time again, eating banana bread was delicious out in the middle of the ocean.
The last time that we went out to kayak, Emma came with us again. After having a hard time the second time she accompanied us (I did not realize that she did not know how to steer and let her sit in the back because I misunderstood), Sophie and her went in the big kayak, and I got to use the smaller, one person kayak. It was a very different feeling to be in a boat alone. At first I was a bit unsure, but I soon figured out my rhythm and ways to navigate, and from then on loved the meditative quality of being in control, slipping through the very calm waters. That trip, we did not find the baby seal, but we went to a different rock collection and sat there for a while. I am connected and anchored to that little stone island. I left a part of myself there, and took a part of the island with me. I climbed around a bit, and stood at the side of the rocks facing the open ocean. The water was so incredibly blue. And the clouds so white, and the waves were crashing rhythmically against rocks further out in the ocean. It’s a place I will never forget.
And I will not forget, either, sitting with Sophie and Emma in tranquil silence eating banana bread.
I think I need the ocean to calm my soul.
I got up a few nights to watch the stars over the water. What immense beauty. There is nothing quite like staring up at the sky and realizing how small you are, how much there is still out there to discover, and yet how connected we are to nature and the rest of the world. I stood looking at the sky taking pictures for hours. The first time that I got up I was so overwhelmed with emotions. I hadn’t prepared myself for the sight of so many stars and such beauty. I remember standing at the edge of the little path that lead to the ocean, heart beating, tears in my eyes because again I realized that I still have so much to live for – and yes, there is beauty everywhere – but sometimes it takes the sight of a million stars to remember that there is still so much to see. That moment I was full of gratefulness for life; for my life.
I am also grateful that I got to share the view of the stars. Merci pour marcher dans la plage avec moi, pour dancer, pour rester avec moi et pour touts les instants après…
I have not talked much about the actual work that I did. I cooked a lot, for Sophie, Helene, Emma, Joel, Dominique, and myself. I loved cooking. Even though I got nostalgic many nights, remembering my work in Bolivia, pealing potatoes, cutting tomatoes…little things like that. I also cleaned a lot, the Windows, the kitchen, the yard. Cleaning was a really meditative thing for me to do – and one of the few things I did not need much French instruction for. Especially getting rid of weeds in the yard was really nice because it was so physical and gave me the feeling of progress after seeing a tall pile of green behind me.
I cherish hearing Emma play piano. She is a genius.
About halfway through my stay, we celebrated a day of art. About 15 local art-students from a public art course came to the Manoir to do work, to later exhibit their art at a party (that sadly I missed because I left the Manoir too early). The day was a beautifully hot day, and I did some art myself. Seeing the (mostly) elderly artists doing their work reminded me much of my old neighbor Phyllis, and how we would sit and do art together when I was a child. As beautiful as the day was, this was also a time of frustration for me because I was growing so comfortable, yet feeling my limitations in terms of communication more than ever. I had made such progress in only 13 days, and yet I hardly understood –and especially misunderstood – much. It was frustrating to get things wrong and I felt bad for my mistakes, even though I knew that I would not do everything perfectly. I am grateful for the patience of everyone who I worked with. I know it was as frustrating for you as it was for me at times. Thank you.
I fulfilled my dream of riding a horse on the beach. This could not have been more peaceful and beautiful. I am so in love with this memory. I had not ridden a horse in years, and here I was, riding bare back and on the beach. The second time Joel took me to take the horses out challenged my courage and fear of falling: the horse I was riding was nervous and did not react well to my (very poorly executed) commands. We were on the path next to the beach, when she started to trot very fast (or maybe even gallop). We had been in the water and her fur and my pants were wet, which meant that I had very little hold and balance. For a few seconds I was scared I would fall, but I remembered that there is not much I can do but go with the motions. As I urged her to slow down, I tried my best to hold on until she stopped. It was an experience of loss of control and adrenalin that I enjoyed even if I was also nervous of falling. It reminded me that even though I can feel in control, I most likely never completely am.
Dancing. Dancing, dancing, dancing. I won’t ever be able to express how much joy I get out of dancing. The night of the art’s day, we also had a little concert. The musicians called for the (very small audience) to dance, and I was shy at first, but then started to dance with Joel and later got everyone up to dance as well. It was so heartwarming to see couples dancing, and then to dance in a big circle. I danced by myself, too, just feeling the music in my body, moving with emotion. That night, I really wanted to dance with Helene, but she was having trouble with her arm. A few days later, just a few days before I left, as the artists were setting up their exhibition, Sophie put on salsa music in the Studio. Helene was in a good mood because her arm was finally getting better. She nudged me with that bright smile of her’s, because she probably saw or felt me swaying to the music. I finally got to dance with her! And I never want to forget how happy and giggly she was when she skinned herself around my arm, how she kept saying “ohh Lena, to dances bien!!!” It gave me life to see her so happy and to get to move to the music.
I also danced along the beach at night, under the stars, with big movements and turns, just to the music in my head, and later to the light of the lantern next to the beach and the music of Systema Solar.
Sheep. I miss them so much. I loved to sit my my room as the sun went down – just around 23:00 – and watch the sheep graze in the last rays of light. The male sheep would come visit me by the door and rub his head against my hand, and occasionally bump me with force. I actually realized that the cat would do the same to get my attention: she would forcefully ram her head against mine! Anyway, the sheep…Mom open a sheep farm in the Bretagne with me? Please?
Running, I took time for myself and my body. I know I feel much better when I run. And I was eating so much! It was beautiful to run by the seaside. I ran in the morning maybe twice until I realized it would be much better to run in the evening. I ran into the dusk, looking at the beautiful reflection of the sky in the ocean, climbing a tree to feel connected to nature, and also feeling rain on my skin as the weather got worse the last two days that I was in Brittany. Running, too, gives me energy. Even though it exhausts me in the moment and it is strenuous once I fall out of a routine. I feel and am so much stronger when I run.
Quimper, the city of little streets and old houses that made me feel so at home even though I had never been. I visited the city one of my last afternoons and it was worth the hour-long bus ride. In a way, this visit foreshadowed my time in Paris: walking around the streets without a clear direction, exploring and curiously seeing where the roads take me. That is really the only way I know to explore a city. I trust that I will get to where I need to be, to whatever it is I really need to see. I always end up finding the most beautiful corners of places. Quimper gave me the opportunity to take in something different than what had become ‘every-day-beauty’ of the ocean, and at the end of the day returning to that beauty, once again tearing up as I walked into a beautiful forest of pine trees that I had never seen before because I got off at the wrong bus stop (on purpose) to walk along the beach back home to the Manoir. While I love the city, nature gives me much more life and I crave the tranquility already. I ended the day eating bread and cheese on the beach, cutting the cheese with a ‘mule’ (mussel) something that Sophie and the others later laughed about a lot. The evening gave me time to reflect on the very little time that I had before leaving. I realized how sad I was to leave this place of beauty, and how attached I had grown to the people around me. I open my heart and take up the world fully. I would not want to live any other way than with complete honesty giving every bit of me, but it hurts so much more to leave. Sitting on the beach watching the sun go down, I admitted to myself, too, that I was scared to lose the peace I had found in the Bretagne. What if I would leave and the inner peace were to go away? I didn’t really want to change the free non-society-conforming-ways I had adopted while living by the beach. I still have not shaved my armpits and wash my hair every 4 days, instead of every other day.
Emma seemed to have been inspired by my energy. The last few days she kept asking me what she could do to live healthier. I showed her how to yield up some core strength and suggested to drink water instead of snacking. The day after I told her about core strength she proudly told me she had done the exercises. I am so proud of her for being motivated!
My last day at the Manoir was one of such bittersweet joy and sadness. I walked by the beach tearing up, knowing that this would be the last time that I would see this beauty (I came back another three times). I still want to go back. Saying goodbye was sad but also beautiful. I had made little gifts for everyone and written letters in French to share my gratitude for the three weeks.
In a way I wish I could have stayed another two weeks – I think that I would have made so much more progress language wise, but parting would have been just as hard, if not harder.
I took such a risk in coming to the Bretagne, not knowing who I would encounter, not knowing what work I would be doing, not knowing how to communicate. I met the most amazing people, and I carry a sense of peace within me that I did not dream of finding. I found, I think, some of my roots in a place I had never been before, that nevertheless felt like another home. I am adding the Manoir to the list of places I call home. And I will return, mentally and hopefully as a part of my future travels. It is too early for me to know what impact these three weeks really had on my development and on my sense of self, but I feel that something shifted within me. Maybe this shift is not long-term, but to be able to say that I found peace for three weeks is a gift that I did not expect.
I also never though that I would love French so much. Barry, nous allons parler beaucoup le francais et aussi voir les films francaises s’il te plait, d’accord?
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Paris, la ville de mes fantasmes….
I wanted to come to Paris since I was 12. Anyone who knows me well enough knows how much I love ‘Amelie’ it has taken me ten years to fulfill this dream.
The first afternoon and night in this enormous city was a mix of awe and loneliness. It was a shock to come from nature to such business and such crowds of people. It was disorienting at first. And I was so exhausted after walking with my backpack for 4 hours and very little sleep, I think I had a hard time to really take in everything that was happening around me. After setting my backpack off at the hostel, though, I took a little tour of the quartier, and was fascinated by the little cafes and brasseries everywhere. This is special in Paris, I think, and gives the city such an air of comfort…and yet, threat fist night, drinking wine at a little bar, I though “Paris is too big to feel like home”. And yes, that feeling did not go away, as I did not spend enough time in the city to make it feel smaller.
As lonely and lost as I felt that first night, I met so many beautiful people the next day as I walked for 11 hours through the streets of Paris…
Of those adventures I will write another day.