Under the tree in Beauvais

June 21, 2022June 21, 2022 | Mairead

We’re on the way home now. Right after our Disney experience we went to Beauvais (you might know it because Ryanair flies into Beauvais airport.) The weather was still hot but we managed to park under a tree at the camping car aire and I put my towel on the ground and read my book.

That white dot is Beauvais. But look at beautiful cool Ireland!

A car arrived as I sat there and the man inside started talking to me in French. I must have looked confused and he realised I wasn’t French (my sitting under the tree makes me look more French than I am…) But he needed to know some things so he was willing to try his English. We had a stop and start conversation. He said a word in English and I replied with a French word. He wanted to know if there was a charge for staying in the aire. There wasn’t. He wanted to know if there was water? Yes there was. He wanted to know where it was.

Steps down from the parking into the city

I got up from my tree and took him to the water machine. He wanted to know where to empty the toilet. I showed him. He wanted to know how to use it. I showed him. He had some more questions about the details of the toilet empty but neither of us had the words so we left that topic and walked back towards the tree.

The footpath on this bridge was the scariest! The planks lift as you walk!

On the way back he started to ask a question but he couldn’t find any English words but I guessed he was trying to find the words for where were we from and he was! We both laughed. It seemed that I was reading his mind. And of course, I wasn’t. Everyone wants to know where you’re from, I wanted to know where he was from too but I didn’t have the French words and I probably wouldn’t have recognised his home location anyway. I can guess he is about to buy or rent a motorhome and he was getting prepared to use it. He drove off still smiling, I was smiling too.

From halfway up the steps – I had to stop a few times…

Communication and clarity of communication is something I’ve been thinking about for a while now. Words are not the only way we communicate. When we speak our native language we depend on the words to get the meaning across so we can happily ignore the non-words – the facial expressions, the hand gestures, the tone of voice, the eyes. But all of those non-words are felt internally by us but ignored… until the middle of the night when we can’t sleep because of something he/she might have been saying.

For some reason I took a picture of the sign describing the church but not the church…

Communication is tricky when you don’t speak the language and it’s very tricky when you do.

It’s over… for now

October 9, 2015October 8, 2015 | Mairead

(A wedding in Surgeres… Thinking of you, Linda and Paul!)

We’re sitting on the ferry hearing Irish voices for the first time in a long time. Mostly they sound kinda nice, friendly, sing-songy, ordinary, gentle too. I was getting used to missing eavesdropping. Now that’s back I’m overwhelmed by the input. I had forgotten there was so much more information than just the words. Consider the eyebrow movement your mother used when she said, “How much?” If she added a certain head tilt you knew you were in big trouble. (Did you hear the tone when you read that two-word question?)

(Narrow street in Nantes)

Every day we make additions to the meaning of the words we hear depending on tone and body language. The people talking to us make additions to the words they hear us say. If we’re really lucky we make the right additions and they make the right additions and we understand each other. Communication is something we take for granted and we usually think the words we say are clear and that of course the person we’re talking to will understand exactly what we mean… but what if they don’t? If they don’t it gets a bit messy.

(Passageway in Chateau Comtel, Carcassonne)

Spending time in a country where I assume I will not understand the people has made me more aware of the possibility that I don’t understand the people in my own country, speaking the language I’m fluent in…. One day last week in Nantes Denis needed to visit the mobile phone shop, Orange. If you’ve ever had to go into a mobile phone shop in any country you’ll have had a similar experience. It’s very slow, there’s lots of queuing. The handshake when the assistant brings you to his workstation is particularly French (and lovely) but the rest is very similar.

(My favourite dishwasher!)

Anyway, I was sitting on an orange (kid you not!) sofa in the Orange shop waiting for him when an older, very well dressed lady sat down beside me. We did the bonjour/bonjour and she said a few more words and I… smiled and nodded (probably appropriate?) but then she said something else and I just knew it was a question. She was looking at me and waiting. For a very short moment I considered more smiling and more nodding but for the first time in France (with a French person) I recognised connection. You know the moment when you trust that the person (whom you don’t know) in front of you is safe? Is worth taking the time to communicate with. Not a huge communication, not deep and meaningful words… yet you somehow connect.

(Sunset in Asserac)

So, I didn’t just smile and nod, Instead I searched deep into my faulty French and said I’m sorry, I don’t understand, I speak only a little French. Her eyes lit up, she laughed, she took my hand, she gently patted my arm and she said something. I have no idea what she said, yet I know exactly what she said…. she told me it was ok, she told me I was ok, she told me everything was fine. Then she asked me what language I spoke and she told me she didn’t know any of that either. All the time she held my hand and patted my arm and we both smiled. Then the assistant called her name and she left to get her phone fixed.

Maybe we say too many words when all we really need to do is connect, Mairead.

I know what you mean…..

June 30, 2011April 11, 2012 | Mairead

(Fred among the weeds)

Something funny is happening to my computer today. I think it might need that debugger that Apple were announcing. Funny thing is ….. my cat, Fred, is unwell too….. not too sure what’s wrong, just not himself. It’s funny how when you live with a pet for a while you get to know their personality. Their behaviour. Almost what they’re thinking…..

(Fred knitting)

For example when I get up in the morning, he gets my attention from outside by making rubbing sounds on the window with his paws. As soon as I open the door he leans up against my leg and I rub his head. We walk together to the larder where he meows his wish for me to get his food out. When he’s sure I have the food he runs over to his bowl and waits there for me to catch up. He likes to start with dried food and then follows that with a little packet of fish in gravy. He’s a fish-eating vegetarian… doesn’t like meat.

(Fred considering his next move)

After breakfast he goes for a little lie down on the sofa and for the rest of the day he only comes near me when he wants more food. He doesn’t like being picked up and rarely sits on my knee. When he wants to go outside he walks over to the back door (if he wants to go out the back) or the hall door (if he wants to go out the front). If I haven’t noticed, he walks over to me, gives me the look and then looks at the chosen door. I find it impossible not to jump up and do what he wants.

(Fred checking his mail)

It’s easy to read a cat. Like reading a human, really. Someone gives us the look and we know straight away what it means.

But…. do we?

Maybe not, maybe humans are a bit more complicated than cats (not always as cute but definitely more complicated). Next time a significant other gives you the look, ask them, “Does that look mean….?”. They could surprise you, it might mean something really interesting…… like, “Please open the front door”. That’s what Fred’s look means.

Sorry about the cat photos, Mairead.