constanttrek

Michel and Monique

December 17th, 2004

The last couple of days have been so extraordinary that I thought I would write about them and enter this as a separate entry from the latest update, which I won’t be writing until we arrive in St Jean Pied de Port, probably in two days time. As I write this we are sitting in blissful sunshine at the refuge in Sorde de L’Abbaye, about 30km from Dax. It is a great refuge, with kitchen, shower, heaters and beds – and the village itself is a real typical ancient Basque place, with all the character and charm in the world. We have wandered around the market and eaten roasted duck hearts with red wine in paper cups, and are feeling particularly content with the world at large; it is a good time to try to describe the last few days.

We had intended to leave Dax, and Michel and Monique, the day after I wrote the last entry; but, AS USUAL, things didn’t go quite to plan. That same day we had arranged to meet Monique after work in the local bar, “L’Or en Bar”, so we headed off there in the early evening. We thought we would have a quick wine or two, get home, eat, fall into bed and disappear early the next morning. But – not for the first time – French hospitality put a quick end to that idea.

The Bar owners remembered us from our brief visit the day before with Michel, so no sooner had we entered than they began introducing us to all the other locals, who instantly began buying us drinks. To no avail did we protest that we seriously shouldn’t be drinking, as we had to walk the next day; the drinks just kept on coming, in every variety, from aperitif to beer to wine. With the drinks came endless questions fired in rapid, Basque accented French, which I did my best to answer whilst Gary nodded enthusiastically. (I am going to make that boy learn French if it is the last bloody thing I do.) People poured into the tiny bar until it was crowded. It was Friday, so they were all having the usual end of week celebration. As apparently happens every night, the Boucher from up the road turned up at about 6.00pm with an enormous tray of gorgeous nibblies, from fois gras to quiches, and everyone dove in. By 9.00 people were singing and we were reasonably plastered. Monique and Michel had been there for about an hour, and thankfully said it was time to go, so we headed back to their place for dinner.

Somewhere in the middle of the next bottle of wine, between the entrée and filet de bouef, it was decreed that we couldn’t possibly leave the next day, as we hadn’t been taken sightseeing properly; by the time we were at the digestif stage, I vaguely remember making plans with Monique to visit Biarritz the next day, whilst attempting to have an in depth discussion about the Iraq war with Michel. Sometime after sampling a vast array of French digestifs, Gary and I slid into bed and remained unconscious for the following ten hours.

When we surfaced the next day we were determined both to remain teetotal for the day, and absolutely, definitely, leave the following morning. The first resolution lasted right up until lunchtime, when Michel pulled out yet another extraordinary bottle from his endless collection, and Monique cooked melt in the mouth veal. Utterly powerless in the face of such guerrilla tactics, we submitted peacefully and ate ourselves silly.

That afternoon Monique drove us down the coast to Biarritz, where we wandered through the very expensive streets and admired the exquisite windows of the chocolatiers for which it is famous. Although it is obviously a huge tourist destination, and very fancy, it is a bit difficult to impress Australians by taking them to coastal resorts, no matter how sophisticated. Unfortunately all I can ever think is that the water should be warmer and the beaches bigger! Obviously, however, the chocolatiers are a completely different issue. I was absolutely thrilled with their gorgeous handmade treats. I could have spent the entire trip’s budget then and there on sampling every single one of the over 500 varieties; but contented myself with a few mugs of truly awesome hot chocolate.

By the time we were due to head back, I was absolutely exhausted. It is a strange, taxing experience to spend a number of days in the company of people whom you don’t know at all and who speak not a word of English. No matter how well you get along, it is extraordinarily frustrating to be unable to express yourself fluently, and to frequently misunderstand what is being said. Even though we were enjoying ourselves, my head was reeling with the effort of making conversation in French; and after six days through the Landes forest, we were also very tired physically, and the hard living was taking it’s toll.

Not that it let up.

We went back to the bar that night for dinner. Without a doubt, it was one of the best we have had in France, and the perfect end to our journey here.

Every second Saturday, the bar owners close the bar to the public, set up a long trestle table, and invite about twenty of their friends for dinner. Although they charge a minimal amount, the evening has much more of the atmosphere of a private dinner party, and the food is very much homecooked. We knew most of the people there from the previous couple of nights, but were pleasantly surprised to meet the son of one of the regulars, Thomas, who was there with his girlfriend Priscilla. They had come down from Paris to visit, and – oh joy! – Thomas spoke fluent English.

It was a real god send for me. He was able to answer all of the questions which had come up for me regarding language over the last while, and particularly in the last few days. Every time we are in the company of French speakers for an extended period, my French moves up another notch, but I need to be able to ask an English speaking French person how to join certain phrases or use certain words. Thomas’ help was absolutely invaluable. It was also a huge relief for Gary, who finally could speak to someone other than me!

The night itself was just wonderful, the kind of night which typifies what France has been for us, with an endless parade of awesome food and wine, and absolutely wonderful, happy, welcoming company. It was the kind of relaxed, convivial atmosphere which seems to come so naturally to people here, but which is such a revelation after three years in England. We had an absolute ball.

But for me the night also made an enormous difference in my understanding of, and ability to speak, French. I got up the following morning and suddenly I could really hear all the individual words Monique said. Since then I have found it almost twice as easy as before to express myself and converse; it is as if someone tuned the radio into a clear station after four months of buzzing static.

So we finally left Monique and Michel, and walked here, to Sorde de L’Abbaye. The few days we spent with them were really just incredible. It still seems utterly amazing to me that we could be just collected from the side of the road and whisked into someone’s life for a period of time; sometimes it all happens so fast it is bewildering. But we wouldn’t change it for the world, and both feel unbelievably fortunate to have these brilliant encounters. The chance to experience life through other people’s eyes and customs is a truly precious one, not to be wasted or unappreciated. Even if it does sometimes leave us feeling as though we are characters from some cheesy 1980’s tv series, like The Littlest Hobo or something, wandering from place to place and in and out of peoples lives. Well, I guess that is exactly what we are doing!

We did laugh though – when we arrived here we had to go to the home of the man who looks after the refuge. When we knocked on the door he and his mother were sitting down to lunch; they welcomed us effusively, and for one terrifying moment we thought we would be invited in for a meal. It is one of the only times on this trip I think we would actually have had to decline. Sometimes you really do just need an afternoon to chill out.

This entire trip seems full of amazing encounters, brilliant people, and sojourns in strange places. So far it has been an experience unlike anything we could have imagined; it is certainly utterly different from any travelling either of us have done before. I have no idea what is in store for us over the border, or in the months and years to come, but we can both truly say that there is not a day that goes by when we do not consider ourselves extraordinarily lucky indeed to be doing this walk. It really is the chance of a lifetime, and we are loving every second of it.

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