Communiquer, c’est bon!

Cover picture: Water lilies at botanical garden, Le Havre

On the stroke of 10:30 p.m, dessert was served, a sumptuous pear tart. In my tummy, it mingled beautifully with the locally produced cheeses accompanied by a fine Bordeau. And yet my head was swimming, trying in vain to keep up with the thread. Phrases containing familiar words tantalised my eardrums, only to be subsumed by the next. Wave upon wave of quick-fire French conversation submerged my braincells, which were tossed too and fro in the swell of relentless repartie.

This beautiful meal had begun four hours earlier with an aperitif; I’d studiously avoided the strong stuff so I could remain alert. If I’d understood nothing, I could have relaxed and let it all roll over my head. But I did ‘get’ a quarter of what they said, and wanted to join in. These people had become my friends, and I was interested in their views and perceptions of life. Jane, who now understands most of the conversation, sometimes spoke up. She speaks French at a sensible speed, and from listening to her I can usually grab the sense of what’s been said, perhaps asking a question to clarify.

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Jane has two penfriends (pictured with us) who live near Le Havre, with whom we spent most of our summer holiday. They spoilt us with delicious meals, showed us around, and we all went to stay at another friend’s house in Cherbourg (on Rue Winston Churchill!) who kindly acted as our tour guide. The five of us shared the cooking. It rained, but hey ho, Normandy is always wet, and we were grateful not to be in Southern Europe’s heatwave. That came later!

To most British people, Cherbourg is where you drive off the ferry, up onto the plateau and away. What a lot we’re missing! The eastern side of the peninsular is packed with elegant harbours such as Barfleur (pictured) containing yachts galore and a few trawlers. The west has dramatic coastal paths and rocky headlands, such as Cap de la Hague (pictured). We climbed to the top of a lighthouse, learnt about the heroism of a lifeboat team; and found out about the Neanderthals at a museum in an ancient fortified farm.  

Cherbourg itself is an interesting city. Appropriately, it hosts an umbrella factory and museum. The Cité de la Mer features a very realistic exhibition about the Titanic, which called here to pick up passengers before setting off on its fateful voyage. Also, a fascinating and surreal tour of a nuclear submarine. Give it a miss if you suffer from claustrophobia!

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When we weren’t outnumbered at a meal table, we conversed more slowly using both languages. Communication means so much more than understanding and conveying meaning; it’s about sharing feelings, humour, sadnesses and joy, hopes and dreams.

Jane and I discovered there was a Pentecostal church half a mile away. We enjoyed worshipping there on Sunday. The pastor’s talk lasted an hour, so there was no rest for weary minds, even if it refreshed the spirit…After the service, Jane had a very helpful conversation with a lady who had come through family struggles similar to our own, and dropped a ‘word of wisdom’ into our lives.  

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Back in Le Havre, we spent two days with Suzie, my cousin, and her daughter Anna, resting our braincells by speaking English. It was wonderful to reconnect after a long time, and to appeciate the direction their lives have taken. We visited the charming port of Fécamp with its fishing museum, which taught us about the tremendous hardships involved in putting herring and cod on our plates in previous generations.

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Jane has an elderly penfriend who lives near Figeac in the South. We met her last year and she’d invited us to stay with her and her husband Claude. We’d arranged to stay the night, but had difficulty making contact to confirm. So, after a pleasant day spent on trains, we arrived in a taxi at her house, hoping we were expected. And we were so pleased we’d taken the risk! It turned out that her son and daughter-in-law had moved in with her just eight days previously, and they made us very welcome. As the heat of the following day gave way to a balmy evening, the younger couple took us on a glorious leafy walk in which the landscape and buildings were bathed in sunlight.  

Marie-Lou is becoming frail but inspires us by the way she looks forward to life in heaven, as if it’s a present reality. There’s a sense in which our own spirit leaps for joy when she talks this way. As we boarded the sleeper train at midnight to return home, we reflected that it had been well worth the trip.