It’s 6 o’clock Monday morning. I’m having my first cup of Chai since coming home. It’s hot and I can faintly taste its spiciness. The thing with a cold is it kills your taste buds and your sense of smell. My tongue feels like sandpaper. My head feels full of cotton batting. No matter. Hot tea is good going down my throat.
I’m not sure if I’m feeling better. I think the nature of the cold is changing. My cough is less frequent but harsher when it comes. I hear myself wheezing. Will I live? There is a relief in being really sick. I can give myself permission for doing or not doing. So – here I sit in my pink bathroom. My hair is standing on end, almost tomahawk style, looking and feeling like hell. Somehow that feels good. I’m comforted by the tapping of my fingers on the keyboard.
Canada is experiencing so much drama recently. First there’s the killing of a soldier by a ‘terrorist’ in Ottawa. Then yesterday, news of CBC’s firing of Jian Ghomeshi hit the air waves. It’s a case of sex, scandal and she said, he said with no women coming forward publicly. BUT seeds of doubt have been planted. I feel myself being swayed in one direction, then another. You know what they say, where’s there’s smoke, there’s fire.
I am sure we all have been in situations of you said, I said. They may not be the same high stake situation that Jian Ghomeshi is in, but aren’t all truths costly? Each of us have to weigh how much ‘the truth’ is worth and be willing to pay the consequences.
I had an epiphany recently about the truth of you said, I said. We all wanted to be right and I want the other person see my right as his. That is impossible because he wants the same, that I see his right as mine. It’s an impasse. A little something nudged me. Maybe I was hearing Dr. Phil saying: Do you want to be right or do you want to be happy? I chose my well being over being right. The truth does not set you free.
So much about Canada and truths, let me move on with my musings while in France. The slow Internet had interrupted my postings.
It’s Tuesday in France. I’m here and tapping some of my thought and feelings. It’s been awhile since I’ve been in foreign country and in a foreign household. The language is different but we are managing somehow with our broken words and sentences and gestures. We have more similarities than differences. We are all human.
The village is small, containing over a hundred some inhabitants. The streets are mostly empty on all our walks. A dog and a cat greets us once in awhile. I can hear the echo of our shoes on the street. Life is a leisurely pace here. We hear the chime of the church bells signalling noon as we climb up and down the hillsides.
We are back at the house. After some time we leave to have lunch at the truck stop. It is a popular place for everyone, truckers and non truckers. There are separate dining rooms for each as the truckers have to eat quicker and be on the road. The rest of us can take our time.
For 13 Euros each, we have a buffet of salads – as much as we want . It consists of a selection of cold meats, fish, shrimp, cheeses, fruits and vegetables. We get to choose a main course from 4 selections or ‘the plate of the day’. This is followed by a selection of cheeses and dessert. Also included : a 1/2 carafe of wine , coffee or tea. This takes a bit of time.
Finally we are finished with the courses of our meals. It is a grey and rainy day in France. We go on a tour of a high technology company where they make parts for airplanes. Metal is cut using laser and water. It is all very fascinating but I am sure it has more meaning for the men than me. It makes me see how different our brains are, how non tech I am. I can only blink and scratch my head at what I saw.
So goes our days – a little bit of this, a little bit of that. Then it’s the evening meal. It’s usually 8 pm and after. If you need time and space to be, France is the country to come. That is my experience anyways.