story

The Tunnel of (Self) Love Part 2

| Mairead
The entrance and…

I did it! I walked through the tunnel. I wasn’t sure I would. Denis was with me and I said we needed to stop just inside so I could get a feel of the problem and then we would take the outdoor route. But within moments the problem was gone. The terror was gone out of my body. We walked another bit. For some reason I was holding my fists in front of my heart as I walked, I suppose it was comforting. I noticed the moving forward was getting easier. And sooner than I expected there was a small sliver of light coming from around the next corner. I didn’t want to hope it was the exit in case it wasn’t but it grew and grew and with my excitement grew and grew and then there it was – daylight streaming in through the way out.

…the exit!

We walked out and up a really steep hill to the town. We were actually very far from the old town and the town walls. The tunnel was never the best way to get to the old town. But we found the new town and had lunch outside and listened to the Spanish language all around us. I’m learning Spanish again but not in the way I usually do. I usually learn it to be able to speak it perfectly – god love me. Not this time. I’ve been reading a great book about how you can help yourself to be healthy for your whole life. And it turns out learning is a great way to encourage a healthy brain into old age. This time I’m learning just for learning. And I’m very surprised at the difference that makes to my experience.

Béjar and the mountains beyond

It is so much easier to communicate when your Spanish doesn’t have to be perfect. And it’s so much easier to meet difficult situations when there is acceptance of our own reactions and we can ask for help.

Stop! Look Left!

| Mairead
First stop 15km from Fougères

It takes a while to transition to this different way of living. To any different way of living. We’ve all had that experience over the past two years. It’s a bit different if it’s forced on you, through ill health, pandemic, war. We choose this different way of living and we packed for it and we looked forward to it and still we were dazed and stunned by it in the first few days. Then we did something we’ve never done before… we stopped, we rearranged, we walked and talked, we drank a little coffee and then we made a tiny little plan.

Yum! The bakery opens at 6.30am every day (except Lundi!)

We had landed in France at 4pm on Friday and started driving south/west towards Portugal. We were on our way to a town called Saint-Brice-en-Cogles which is north of the city of Rennes. It’s a Village Étape. These are villages near the motorways that are nice places to stop for a break, a meal, to shop or to stay over. You can see signs for them on the motorway showing the junction nearest to them. We have always liked them as unlike a lot of French towns and villages the village étape will always have a cafe/restaurant serving food and there will be plenty of parking nearby. We found the restaurant and got a delicious chicken, mushroom and wholegrain mustard pizza to takeaway. And went to bed.

Ice on the windscreen

Next morning we woke to sunshine and freezing temperatures. There was ice on the windscreen. And Denis had forgotten to bring his coat. I had brought so many books they were spilling out on the floor every time we rounded a corner. The water tank had leaked all our water overnight due to a safety “feature” (does frozen water in the pipes really need to be avoided? Yes, seemingly.) Our carbon monoxide alarm had disappeared. We also needed to buy supplies for dinner. Plus the quality of our internet connection, so far, was intermittent which was a worry as Denis need to connect with work. It was a lot for a first day.

When we started travelling one of the things that worried me most was crossing the road. How could that worry me, I learned to cross the road as a child, I’m good at it, I know how to do it right. Right? No, not in France. It’s all to do with thinking I’m right. Crossing the road is a skill we learned as children. Just look both ways and cross when the road is clear or when there’s enough distance between you and the car to walk to safety. Right?

Stop!

Wait! There’s a small important first step that we miss if we’re crossing the road in France and every other country where they drive on the right. Look Left! The cars will be coming from the left. Sure, I know this is simple. Sure, I know that you will look left…eventually. But, we believe the cars and trucks nearest to us will be coming from the right so we automatically begin walking BEFORE we get around to looking left (and spotted the car zooming towards us.) Trust me this is a worry! And it’s nothing to do with crossing the road.

I know it’s not the biggest worry, it’s small but it always reminds me that I am missing lots of other things when I think I’m right. When I believe what I learned a long time ago (or even just last week) is still true. Things change fast but we can cope if we stop and just notice… and then move on.

They sell carbon monoxide alarms here!

Our tiny plan was to search on google maps for a Decathlon – for Denis’ coat, a supermarket – for dinner, a petrol station – for diesel, a hardware shop – for the carbon monoxide alarm, a campsite – for water, laundry and a place to empty the toilet and wifi. Doing all these things is easy when you know where they are and how to get there. But what is true right now is that everything takes longer and some supermarkets have barriers that we can’t fit under and some automatic petrol stations won’t accept our credit cards and some campsites have terrible wifi.

When we just notice what is true now and work with that, rather than assuming we are doing something wrong, most things become less stressful.

…what is true right now?

New Normal Gifting

| Mairead
Eilish modeling my scarf

I could hear Eilish rustling papers in the larder and wanted to know what she was up to, she told me to stop being so curious. Next thing she arrives out with a brown paper parcel tied with yarn. It was for me! The scarf she’s been crocheting for two weeks is mine! I have been eyeing it up since the day she started and she must have noticed. A note fell out as I was opening it. A very funny note about these strange times and our little community.

Brown paper parcel

On Sunday my FenceChat neighbour Aileen put on her angel wings and sent some self-raising flour over the fence. In case you don’t know, flour, of any variety has been impossible to get in the online supermarket delivery. That’s ok I don’t need the extra calories but we were missing the creative possibilities. Eilish’s hidden break-the-rules tendency comes to the fore when she thinks about baking. She’s been scouring the cook books looking for a recipe to break. The contents of our larder has constrained her a bit but in spite of that yesterday she made apple and clove queen cakes and tomorrow she has promised raspberry buns. I will need to increase the number of 2km walks and I’m searching Youtube to find out how to let out my jeans.

We’re nearly finished the most difficult jigsaw on the planet

In other news, my mother told me a story that made me cry. There’s a school near her nursing home and this week lots of letters arrived from the children. My mother got one from a ten year old boy and she read it to me. It was adorable and as newsy as a ten year old boy can be but the line that got me was, “everyday on our way to school we wave at your home” I’m tearing up again now, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I shared the story with Eilish and I couldn’t get past this line and again with Denis. It just doesn’t get old for me. I’m imaging the boy and his mother or it could be his granny driving him to school, maybe there’s a brother or sister and the adult is kind and she says, look here we are, start waving! Of course they’re not going to school at the moment so he waves in a letter. Isn’t that beautiful? I’m dribbling on the keypad. Oh and my mother has written back to him. She used her last stamp! Holy god, I’m in bits.

May you be well, Mairead.

The TO DO List exploded…

| Mairead
My porridge sends you a heart!

We are still working away in the garden but we have slowed down. Thankfully. My back was starting to ache and Eilish was getting better at being the boss of me. She has a very productive way of getting me off a chair, she goes out into the garden and leaves the back door open. Did you know the east wind is still blowing? The east wind is very cold when you’re sitting in a chair. Fortunately she’s ready for a break now too and I’m encouraging her to take one, she really needs to slow down… I’m not getting any younger. Where would we go if we took a break, though? We’re already on a break, aren’t we? What kind of un-magical rethinking made this seem like work?

The cherry blossom on our route turned to confetti

I blame the TO DO list. We were moseying along from weed to hedge, to seedlings, to shed, cutting and picking and shredding and painting. Happily doing just one thing at a time and getting loads done. Then I thought I might be missing something, forgetting something. I came up with a great idea (not) to make a TO DO list. I was thrilled. I wrote down all the jobs we were doing and every time we had a good idea I added that to the list. When it came to two pages I felt very productive. Well I was productive, I had produced two pages of words. That’s great, isn’t it? No, it’s not.

The shed disguised as a beach hut

I could have sat looking at that productive list for a long time, if it wasn’t for the open door and the east wind blowing. Instead I got to work. Every time we stopped for a drink or a meal I would return to the TO DO list to scratch off something and I soon realised a mistake. It was only the first mistake. I had made the items on the list too broad, not detailed enough. Each item could easily cover twenty steps. Some steps needed two lines. Two days in I decided we needed a more detailed TO DO list. It took me an hour and more paper but I had a great list. I took a drink break and then went back to the garden.

Bluebells turned up in the front garden

Today I looked at the list. The ginormous list. I am overwhelmed. My overwhelm is slowing me down, I am doing less. I have slowly increased the number of drink breaks and even added a sit-quietly-in-a-dark-room break. I no longer care about the east wind. I wrap my blanket around my legs to keep warm now when Eilish goes outside. We will never, I repeat, never finish the TO DO list…

Our prize rootball… we celebrate every success

I’m starting to mumble to myself here in my dark room and just now I heard myself ask, Would it be ok to tear up the TO DO list? No! It would not be ok, I heard the garden police reply. Do the garden police even exist? They might not. I’m tearing up the TO Do list.

May you be well, Mairead.

Community Spirit

| Mairead

 

(There was rain, beautiful rain)

I want to tell you a story about something that happened before I started writing about the new normal journey. The day after Eilish arrived in Greystones, Denis began feeling unwell. He rang the doctor and spoke to the receptionist who explained the procedure. He went on to the HSE (Irish health service) website to fill in a form for a test and then he went into self-isolation in our bedroom. I moved into the box room and we all lived happily ever after…

(The rain fell on the farmyard manure)

The next day I got up early to go to the supermarket. I wanted to do the shopping at a time when it would be quiet but when I got a text message from my sister-in-law, Helen, wishing me a happy St. Patrick’s Day I realised… it was St. Patrick’s Day. The supermarket wouldn’t be open early. Something cracked inside and I realised there were some things from now on that I couldn’t control and shopping in a quiet supermarket was one of them. Later that day I looked at the click and collect options and I booked a slot for the following week. Ok, I can do this, I’ll go to the supermarket early tomorrow instead but in the meantime I know we will have food next week no matter what.

(And it fell on the wire that will hold up the climbers)

Next morning, I delivered Denis’ breakfast and got dressed up to go to the supermarket. I hadn’t realised I was so tense, after all it’s just a supermarket trip, what’s so scary? When I opened the front door there was a leaflet on the porch floor.

(The leaflet, I’ve covered the personal details)

It read,
If you are self-isolating, I can help. My name is Orla… I’m part of a local volunteer network and live in…. My phone number is…
There was a list of things she could help with including talking on the phone. There were phone numbers for the HSE and Alone (charity for older people) and there were guidelines about the virus. At the bottom of the note there was a note saying how she and her neighbour had used hand sanitiser before preparing the leaflets and how they had used it again between visiting each house.

(Sun came out and painting moved to the fence)

I don’t know Orla but in that moment I loved her. I’d never heard of a local volunteer group. Did someone see the same news reports as me and instead of getting anxious, got organised? Orla was somewhere out there with kindness in her heart and a bundle of notes under her arm and if she was doing that then I could do this. I could be organised too.

(One down only 12 more to go…)

I got the groceries, it was very quiet in the supermarket. I went to the chemist, there was a small queue. All was well. Later that day I sent Orla a text to thank her, she said it was happening all over Greystones. She said she lived on the next green to me. I said I was really grateful for her note and we were fine for food but if there was anything I could do to please let me know. I made her a card and when I took Sadie for a walk I posted it in her post box. First, I laminated it and wiped it down with hard sanitiser.

(One and a half done… more to do)

While I was delivering the card I noticed there were children in Orla’s house (no I was not staking out her house…) Can you imagine the stories those children will tell their grandchildren about this time? They will say that their mother printed and cut up leaflets for nearly two hundred houses and that she sanitised her hands every time she popped one in a letter box. That she walked to every one of those houses letting people know they were not alone. That she went to the supermarket for her neighbours who couldn’t. That she chatted on the phone to strangers, reassuring them. I can imagine memories like that having the ability to sustain communities long after this is over. There’s a bigger prize than normality waiting for us on the other side of this.

May you be well, Mairead.

Nice Calm Seas…

| Mairead

(That’s the door of the church)

We are (hopefully) on calm seas somewhere near the south-west coast of England if you are reading this on Thursday morning. There’s hardly a puff of wind and it’s very cosy onboard… but that’s tomorrow. Today, we are in Cherbourg in the camping car parking where we started six weeks ago. Remember? We had to empty the vinegar water from the fresh water tank. No such jobs today, instead we are waiting to board the ferry at 9pm.

(The back of the church)

On route from Bayeux this morning we stopped in Sainte Mère Église. It’s a town made famous by the old black and white movie called The Longest Day. The movie tells a story from 1944. You might remember yesterday I said Bayeux was the first town to be liberated by the allies? Well, Sainte Mère Église was the first village.

(Can you see the replica paratrooper hanging up there?)

It was late at night June 5th 1944, 14,000 paratroopers were dropped out of planes over the area. They were part of the D-Day invasion. By sunrise the German troops had left or were dead and an America flag was flying from the town hall. One of the paratroopers that night was John Steele. He was a bit unfortunate, his parachute got stuck on the church steeple as he floated into the square. He had a knife to cut himself down but he dropped it so the best he could do was play dead while the fighting was going on all around him. He was 32 years old at the time. Eventually one of the German soldiers holding the church cut the straps of his parachute and dragged him up onto a tiny balcony.

(Can you see the America flag?)

We’re in Sainte Mère Èglise because we need a boost of electricity, the grey days are causing havoc with our solar production. So while Denis got to work at the supermarket plugged into an hour of power for €2, I walked into the old village. It was buzzing. Villages in France are rarely buzzing on a Wednesday morning but this isn’t France.

(That’s a Roman road marker (that little cross on top was added later) the Romans did battle here too)

Well no, it is… but it’s also a tiny bit of America. Everywhere you go you hear American accents, you see American flags. This village is a kind of showcase of how great America was. They were the heroes, everyone was grateful to them. They saved the day. It must be lovely. It is lovely. But it’s also sad. Mainly because you can still imagine what happened here, what happened all over France, all over Europe during the Second World War and the First World War. What’s happening still, in war. You’d think we’d learn, we humans, I mean.

You’d think we’d be doing things differently now. Mairead.

(Here’s Sainte Mère Église)

The Lovely Gentleman of La Flèche

| Mairead

(That’s the gate of the military school on the right and the spire of the church with the ashes to the left)

We spent three nights in La Flèche, the longest we’ve stayed anywhere this trip. On Saturday I went to the tourist office and got a booklet with a walking tour of the town. Then I took a seat outside a cafe, had a cup of green tea and started reading.

(This old shop used to be a haberdashery, selling buttons, sewing supplies and material, sigh)

I hadn’t got very far in my reading when a gentleman who had been sitting outside also, approached me nodding at the booklet and saying something in French. I think he was saying are you enjoying your holidays? but he suddenly stopped when he saw the cover and said, oh you are English! I said, oh yes I’m Irish.

(This is France)

He knew loads about his town and was very interesting. He told me how I could get into the military school if I had a ID card with me. Just be brave and knock on the door and say you want to see the church! He proceeded to tell me that the hearts of the King Henry IV and his wife are in there. Well, not their entire hearts… there’s a story.

(Another little laneway)

The King had always said he wanted his heart buried in the church but that may have just been his way of saying he loved the place. Anyway whoever was in charge of such things took him at his word and when he died they put his heart (or the ashes from his heart, maybe) into an urn in the church. Then when his wife died her heart went into the urn too. Then something they hadn’t anticipated happened – the French Revolution.

(Vintage travel)

In the heel of the hunt the poor king and queen’s urn was taken out into the streets and burned. All was not lost though, some kind gentleman swept up as much of the ashes as he could and kept them safe. These ashes, of the ashes, are in the military church. My new friend was in a hurry to go off and meet his wife so we parted company and I went down to knock on the door of the military school with my Irish driver’s license.

(Another one of the old signs)

I could still be there knocking, for all the good it did me. French schools are on mid-term just like Irish schools. There was no one around. But at least I was brave enough to knock. One other interesting thing he told me was about the river. I’ll tell you tomorrow but in the meantime see if you can guess, there’s a hint in the following photo…

The kindness of strangers. Mairead.

(La Flèche on the Loir)

And here’s La Flèche on the map…

We might be in a movie…

| Mairead

(Grand Hotel de Bordeaux)

We left the small town of Créon early on Saturday morning to drive to a lakeside campsite just north of Bordeaux. The journey took about 30 minutes.

(Driving over the Dordogne)

We’ve bypassed it many times but we’ve never been into the city of Bordeaux but on the recommendation of friends – thank you Astrid and John – we decided to have a look. We found the campsite, the information said it was near public transport so we parked up and set off to find the bus stop. It was just outside the gates and the driver was waiting for us. He then drove us to the terminus of the C tramline. It took about 20 minutes to get into the center of Bordeaux.

(Sanna sculpture by Jaume Plensa)

We didn’t have a big itinerary planned, we were just going to soak up the atmosphere. First step: follow the crowd off the tram and into… the longest shopping street in Europe. We can now tick that one off our bucket list. It was very long but it wasn’t very crowded at 10.30am. We walked for a while, me taking pictures, Denis calculating how long before we could have a coffee. Not long, as it happened, we sat down looking out on the world as it shopped. Then we were off walking again.

(The French Camino goes through Bordeaux)

I love the idea that the French have their dinner at lunch time so that was one thing I definitely wanted to do while we were in the city. As déjeuner (midday meal) starts at noon… before long it was time. This turned out to be the high point of our day but not for reasons you’d imagine.

(This was my view)

We sat at a table outside a lovely looking restaurant facing each other. Does this happen to you? One person gets the best view and the other hears a commentary of the scene? Denis had the best view and was keeping me up to date with the traffic and the scooters for rent. Like the ones we rented in Lisbon. Then he started doing a survey on the number of cyclists wearing helmets. It’s not compulsory to wear helmets in France when you ride a bike. Two out of 25 cyclists surveyed were wearing helmets.

(My duck salad)

It was about this time I noticed the group of five men about 200 meters away running down the street in our direction, probably for a bus. Up until then nothing was happening in my view. So I put down my fork in anticipation of starting a commentary but I continued chewing (an amazing duck salad, by the way). Then the guy in front stopped and turned to the second guy and punched him full on in the face. They weren’t running for a bus. The second guy went down. The first guy turned and ran… straight into a scaffolding, fell, got up… and started running towards us.

(Nice buildings in Bordeaux)

I was trying to tell Denis that there was something happening but my words got stuck and anyway he was devising a new survey about takeaway food delivery logistics and didn’t notice I was mumbling. The guy in front (you know, the one who had hit the second guy?) approached our table. I was trying not to look but at the same time to look because I had a sudden thought that I should be a good witness. But I had to let that dream go my eyes were in touch with fear and he said, Don’t Look! I did see he had a shoulder bag that looked like it was a woman’s Burberry. I was well into a story about how he stole it and the gang of guys behind were trying to get it back for the owner when he ran into our restaurant.

(Old shopping arcade)

I could hear shouting, our waitress was backing away from the restaurant door. I couldn’t see into the restaurant because the windows were mirrored on our side. I was not getting anywhere explaining to Denis. Then the army arrived. I. Kid. You. Not. Six soldiers in full khaki with guns walk from a side street to another side street not 6 meters from me.

(Longest shopping street in Europe)

I’m gesticulating discreetly to Denis, he sees nothing. Six more soldiers pass. I can take no more I catch the waitress’ eye and point to the soldiers. (Did I mention the guns were big? They could definitely be useful with the Burberry guy.) She moved from her spot staring into the restaurant and walked over to me, saying, “Ah, no, madam c’est normale.” (This is normal.) We went home after lunch and fell asleep until it was time to go to bed.

Maybe we stumbled onto a movie set? Mairead

Ps. I hope this doesn’t put you off Bordeaux, it’s a really beautiful place.

(There’s Bordeaux!)

Thunderstorms Always Include Lightening

| Mairead

(One Mississippi)

My shoes are still soaking, so are my second best pair of jeans, socks, raincoat. We walked back from the town last night after dinner. All day it was hot and overcast. Funny weather. The kind you know means something is coming. What could it be? What’s coming?

(A different happy day)

Rain. It could be rain is coming. It was rain. Rain came. Buckets of it. We weren’t very far from town, just far enough to get totally soaked and totally frightened to death. Well I was totally frightened to death. Denis thought it was a “new experience”.

(I’ll never complain about fog again)

You’re probably thinking rain isn’t that frightening. Who would be frightened of a little rain? Not me… I’m not afraid of rain. Lightening, I’m afraid of lightening… it was lightening. We were having a lovely meal when it started. I nearly choked on my canard trying to count one-Mississippi; two-Mississippi… to figure out how far away it was. But what does that number mean anyway? How big does the number have to be to be safe? Please god let 4 be a big enough number!

(Lovely clouds)

It’d be ok we’d ask the waitress to call a taxi. I went back to chewing. Excuse-moi could you call a taxi for us please? Confused looks, French words, not sure what that means but no, it’s ok she is calling. Hang on, she’s saying je suis desole…

(Nice flower)

She’s sorry, why is she sorry, Denis? No taxi. The weather is too bad, he’s taking the night off…. What?! My eyes are on stalks. She asks, Do you have an umbrella? I make a smile appear on my face, Yes, thank you we’ll be fine. She is distraught, No! Don’t use the umbrella, it will be dangerous! I make a laugh come out of my mouth, Oh, thank you. We’re dead.

(Happier days)

We’ve finished eating ages ago. Everyone else has left the restaurant. The waitress is closing the door. It’s time to go outside. This is a new experience. Don’t you love new experiences? Don’t I love new experiences? No! No, I don’t love new experiences. I actually bloody hate new experiences! I have rain proof shoes, I’ll be fine.

(Reflecting on nice things)

They’re not rain proof. I can feel the water squelching around my toes. I instantly forget that with the first flash of lightening. I call the son of god, his mother and Joseph, I can’t help myself, I am way beyond dainty cursing.

(Formerly, my biggest fear…)

Denis’s arm is black and blue from the tight hold I have of him. I’m back to counting Mississippis and now I really need to know what number is safe? Is it three?!? The thunder comes at eight and I start to remember the other things that keep you safe… Don’t stand under a tree… ok. Don’t stand in a doorway… ok. Don’t stand out in the middle of a field..ok. But where should I stand? Can I stand in the middle of the road? Do I have to stand? Can I keep walking? Should I run? Not run?

If it wasn’t so frightening it would be beautiful. Unfortunately, the part of my brain that recognises beauty is short on oxygen at the moment. All oxygen supplies are needed for fear production. We’re home. Get into dry clothes. Take a breath. Oh no hang on, what do that say about sitting near windows? Denis, get away from the windscreen!

(Scary bridge on the way to CERN)

Hang on I’ll ask Siri, HEY SIRI! WHAT SHOULD I DO IF I AM IN A MOTORHOME IN A THUNDERSTORM? It took her a moment to process and then she said… ok, Married (she can’t pronounce Mairead) I found this on the web, Thunderstorms always include lightening. Don’t use anything electrical… I slowly back away from my phone.

Not a true story, Mairead.

Ps. Is.