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April 15 Saturday Bicycle touring France Draguignan France I phoned Dad to wish him Happy Easter and to check on how mom was doing. My brothers, Rob and Scott, were visiting Dad in Princeton BC for Easter, so we all got to talk for a few minutes. Mom is doing better with her breast cancer chemo treatments. Dad says she is putting on some weight, after not eating for about a month stretch. She lost a lot of weight ... and she doesn't have much to lose in the first place (at 5 foot 1, she used to weigh about 120 pounds ... soaking wet). It was half an hour past midnight there when I called, so I got the answering machine on the first try. I asked the operator to try again. This time the line was busy. The operator kindly tried a third time. Dad answered on the first ring in that deep fuzzy sleep-induced voice we sometimes have when woken from a deep sleep. Madeleine shared a sad story with us. Her parents were asphyxiated years ago in their sleep one cold January 30 night from a malfunctioning petroleum space heater. At the time, Madeleine was seven months pregnant with her daughter, Sylvie. Her parents were helping take care of her three year old son, Jean-Jac. He usually slept at her parent's house. But, for some reason, on that fateful night, Madeleine had him at her place. Heart-broken, understandably so, over her parents untimely demise, her young marriage took a hit. Her husband couldn't understand her great emotional distress. They divorced shortly after. Madeleine raised Sylvie and Jean-Jac on her own. As she says it was "tres difficil" very difficult. On this day, taking a well deserved rest from our France bicycle tour, I stayed around the house, reading on a wicker chair while basking in a sunbeam that hits along the verandah. The sun sure feels good. Sharon and Madeleine went to the market. Sharon says it was busy today. We had gone to gawk yesterday, but it was relatively quiet. We window-shopped along the small streets, as well. We visited Draguignan's museum. There was an old coin and painting display, as well as works of art -- sculpture, pottery, vases, and more paintings. The final room we viewed had prehistorical artifacts found in the area. Madeleine showed us the pottery that she had found on a friend's property. Her friend had been digging in his yard and he hit a tomb. They opened the tomb (it was on display, too) and discovered human remains and some artifacts. Madeleine says she wouldn't do it again though -- she says it's not right to disturb the dead. This area has, of course, been inhabited for millennia. I would hate that. Go out digging in your garden to plant a few potatoes and the next thing you know it's turned into an archeological site. Madeleine's "employee" (still working on tiling the bathroom) disappeared suddenly sometime before lunch without saying good-bye. Odd. Madeleine had wanted to check with him to see if he had enough tiles to finish the tub enclosure. When he returned after lunch, we discovered he had left suddenly because he had gotten a piece of ceramic tile in his eye while cutting the tiles. For some reason, the tiles are not entirely flat. Their wavy blue appearance resembles the sea. I love it, but Madeleine's not so sure. I think it's perfect since she's so near the Mediterranean Sea. Sharon and Madeleine went to get more tiles from a little place outside Draguignan. When they returned, Sharon was feeling unwell from the curvy mountain roads. I ride in the little two-seater's hatchback when all three of us go out. I bark and pant like a dog (much to Madeleine's consternation) when she opens the hatch to let me out. I haven't barked at any cyclists though. Good boy! Madeleine's married name was Grosstete (big head). I see why she went back to her maiden name. She says that Grosstete is a common French name. I found out that when someone does something that at home we might say, "That will give him a big head," they don't use that expression in France. Oh, no. Get this: Instead, they whistle and then expand their hands outward from their ankles -- fat ankles! I laughed so hard, tears ran down my cheeks. Only the French would think that up. French humour is different all right. The scary thing is, I am starting to think some of the French humor is funny. When I watched French TV at Christmas in our hotel room on the French Rivierra, I thought all of their gags were vile, crude, nasty, impolite, and silly, at best. I watched TV today and even laughed at a couple of skits. The host was singing some satirical song about the upcoming election, which I couldn't comprehend, while people walked along a make-believe street in the background. One pedestrian turned up her foot and looked at the sole of her shoe. She apparently had stepped in make-believe dog shit. The next time she passed, she held her nose. Then, a third time, she was mugged and her purse was stolen. Is this funny, or what? What did the Frenchman say when he came home and found his wife in bed with three men? "Allo! Allo! Allo!" The big joke when we were cycle touring in Italy was: I was driving in Rome and hit a penguin. "There's no penguins in Rome," his friend informs him. "Oh, my God!" the driver says. "I must have run over a nun." The French call the Italians "Macaroni." They say it is not true that an Italian is just a happy Frenchman. The French have another saying. "If you drink too much water, you will get frogs in your stomach." Where do they come up with these gems? That saying is supposed to be hilarious too, by the way. As I poured myself a fourth glass of water at supper tonight, I decided to try out the saying, but I forgot the word for "frogs" and mistakenly substituted the word meaning "pigs," thus telling Madeleine, "My pigs are thirsty." She rolled on the floor with laughter. Instead of making new words or adopting words from other languages like we do for the English language, the French will take already established words in their lexicon and combine those words to make new meanings to convey what a new English word would mean. Take the word "driving," for instance. They say "promenade la voiture," which translates literally to "walking the car." In my mind, "walking the car," conjures up a different image than what "driving" does. But that might just be me. The wind was howling outside -- another good day to be inside instead of outside on a bicycle tour. We could hear tree branches flailing against the house. Madeleine's glass door would shake, as if being beaten by the wind. Frappe la port. Lock: "Fermé le cle" means close the key. Just as we were going to unplug the phone to plug in the Minitel (this is a computer from the phone company which accesses on-line information such as lotto numbers, horoscopes, and phone and addresses for all of France), the phone rang. My mom was calling from the hospital! She sounded good. Her third chemo treatment for her breast cancer is on Friday. She says she has an envious collection of hats to cover her bald pate. Scott just bought her a jester-type. Our prayers are with you, Mom. Hope you get well soon. When I told her that I had mailed my latest bicycle touring journal to her, she said enthusiastically that she is "dying to read it," but quickly changed her wording to "looking forward to reading it." Some of those old sayings die hard, so to speak. We talked about everything, including home canned bread-and-butter pickles, black currants, and, of course, bean salad. Some of Mom's favourite foods. Sharon said that my mom would be out of that hospital bed in an instant if I said I wanted some bean salad. After mom's surprise phone call, we used the Minitel to do a name search for "Boulet" (Mom's maiden name) and Boulays (which Madeleine said was a variant spelling) in the area. We came up with forty-some responses ... "in well to do addresses" according to Madeleine. "Can you swim?" she asked. "Yes. Why?" "Because at these addresses all of your relatives will have pools." Also checked the lotto numbers and found Madeleine still has to go to work on Tuesday. We also tried out a life-length program, in which Madeleine answered some questions truthfully and others a tad fictionally. The cartoons were weird. One showed people praying before a giant condom. I told you that French humour was weird. Anyway, Madeleine was forecast to live until the age of 79 - 82. |
