I’m writing this post in retrospective, from India, because we really didn’t feel creative and bloggy (is that a word) while in France. Time and space have given us some perspective on our last workaway experience at a Chateau in the Loire Valley. I don’t really have anything nice to say, and so I’m choosing not to say anything at all. My queue is packed with positive and informative things to say about our current location and I’d like to spend my energy on that…
Even though it was a darker time, I think it taught us about the importance of the energy of the people that you surround yourself with. We saw first-hand how quickly a negative person can suck the life out of a group, a couple, a person. Even though we only spent a couple of hours a day with this person, it really had a tangible and visible effect on the three of us volunteers and for Marc and I at least it lasted for a while after we had left.
So, on to bigger and better things. On day 59 we boarded a plane in Paris destined for the glitz, glamour, smog, and bangles of India!
Today Ken and Clare drove us 2 hours north to visit Juno Beach, a mythological place for young Canadians. We grow up learning about the “victories” at Juno and Vimy Ridge in the world wars, as evidence of Canada’s contribution to the worldwide stage. But it’s one thing reading about it in a 4th grade textbook and quite another to stand in a bunker on the actual beach. Continue reading
After our superior six-hour trip to Paris we boarded yet another train to meet our lovely English hosts in Normandy.
“How will we know which ones are them?” Marc asked as the train slowed at the Flers station.
I pulled out the description Clare had e-mailed over that morning. ‘We both have short hair, I am a little taller than Ken, neither of us are what you would call slim…’ And there they were. Notable not from their descriptions, but because they are the only couple smiling and waving in the friendly way I had become familiar with just through e-mail correspondence with Clare. Continue reading
Each day, Clare treats us to a home-made soup with lunch. Our particular favourite is the Leek and Roquefort (she would make it with Stilton at home in England). Today, Clare lets me watch over her shoulder as she makes it…
The most charming, heart-warming, hilarious, uplifting and sweet individual I have met so far on these travels is Mac, the goat. Continue reading
You have six hours between the arrival of your overnight train and the departure of your next train to Normandy. It’s the City of Love. Your husband has never been there. You won’t be back for likely a decade or more. Go!!
So began 30 hours of travel: Train from Valencia, Spain to Barcelona, Spain. Train from Barcelona, Spain to Toulouse, France. Train from Toulouse, France, to Paris, France.
For some reason, I always wanted to take a sleeper train. Marc knew this about me so was supportive of booking this convoluted method of travel to get us from the scene of La Tomatina to our next wwoofing assignment in France. The cost was about the same as a flight so why not?
I felt a bit like we were on the Hogwarts express finding our coach number and then opening the sliding door to the berth. Marc and I had splurged on upper bunks and arrived early to touch every button, flip every switch and thoroughly unpack, examine and then re-pack the complimentary toiletries bag*. Continue reading