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More Than One Way
We sat in a grassy clearing beside the River Loup to eat lunch. Foot-long fish swam in the clear water. A bevy of mallards paddled to and fro, quacking for a free lunch. One lone white swan glided majestically across the surface. The idyllic scene was a direct contrast to what other overseas visitors had told us: that the French Riviera was nothing but a polluted wasteland. Perhaps it was our mode of travel that allowed us to see a different Europe. Whereas other visitors sped past, shielded behind tons of metal and glass, our bicycles allowed us to become intimate with the landscape, immersed, engrossed, and ultimately, seduced. As we soaked up the winter sun, we gazed across the river at the gorgeous houses lining the opposite riverbank. "How can the French manage their country's high cost of living, and yet still enjoy so much leisure time?" Sharon wondered. "After all, they work fewer hours than North Americans, and yet they still take a minimum of four weeks vacation each year. How can they afford it?" Maybe it was their smaller houses. Certainly they cost less to furnish than our monstrosities. And they cost less to heat. In fact, central heating seemed virtually unheard of by the masses. Instead of heating the entire house, they used small space heaters to warm only the room they were in. And they used shutters to keep heat in or out, depending on the season, unlike in North America where shutters are only used for ornamentation. French houses had only dressers -- no closets. That meant they didn't have room to buy clothes they rarely wore. And they often washed clothes by hand and hung them in an open window to dry. Most folks didn't even own a dryer. Why should they pay for electricity when they could let it air-dry for free? Europeans were far more energy conscious than we, their wastrel cousins across the Atlantic. They used low-wattage fluorescent tubes and only lit the room they occupied. They didn't have behemoth stereos or televisions -- and certainly not more than one. They didn't have freezers, dishwashers, microwaves, air conditioners, toaster ovens, bread makers, cappuccino makers, or rice cookers. And the appliances they owned -- fridges, stoves, washing machines -- were tiny dorm-sized versions. They didn't even shower every day! And by not doing so, they saved the cost of water, heating the water, soap and shampoo. And they didn't have to launder towels as often. They even saved the time involved to do those chores. Their tiny cars sipped gas. They used motorcycles, scooters, bicycles, and walked more than the average North American. Services were close, often within walking distance of their home. It wasn't necessary to drive five kilometers for a loaf of bread. Being less materialistic, not buying into the bigger-is-better mentality, they reaped twin advantages of working fewer hours, and still having enough money to enjoy their increased leisure time. The "old country" did things differently. There were alternatives. I had just never thought of them before. Still mulling over new insights, we cycled off in search of a camping spot. We passed a hippodrome. "Is that where hippos go to roller skate?" I questioned. Sharon frowned. "Fat girls on roller skates?" I tried. Her frown deepened. "They're for horses," she said in a thoroughly disgusted tone. I pondered a moment, then inquired, "And what size skates do they wear?" I was still chuckling at my wit when we happened upon a country park. Families were out enjoying the sunny day, strolling, riding bikes, or playing soccer and pétanque (the French version of lawn bowling). It was refreshing to see all ages having such fun together. "That's what life is all about," Sharon said happily. "Spending time with family and friends." We sat at a picnic table and wrote in our journals while waiting for the families to leave. The sun finally set and the last of the stragglers headed for the shelter of their warm domiciles. With numb fingers we pushed our bikes into the woods to a concealed spot and set up our little tent. The night promised to be cold again. Our prior two nights had hovered near zero Celsius -- and the limitations of our lightweight sleeping bags had been exceeded. We wondered what the best course of action to keep warm was (other than getting a motel room!). "How about if we both get into one sleeping bag, then throw the other over top like a quilt?" I asked. We squeezed our feet and legs in, but it was impossible to get our shoulders in and zip the bag. Torsos hanging out, we laid the extra bag over us, and -- feeling like two sardines -- waited for the chilly night air to invade. |
| "I laughed my
@$$ off !! By the way, my wife is now reading your book, and
is enjoying it as well. Her comment to me was: 'Now I know why
you like this book. You're like him, and I'm like her. He makes
a funny or sarcastic remark, and she just grimaces at him for
it.'" Sean D. LaFave |
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