Preixan, France:
The time has finally come to write and post this entry. For all the introspective moments, the realizations, the images, the walking and the awe-struck feelings there have been two utter constants: kindness and laughter.
Kindness and laughter are the kind of things that are the best part of any day when they happen and the hardest thing to remember the following afternoon. It’s funny how that seems to be; unless you urinated in your pants laughing or someone offered you the keys to their car, we tend not to remember those sorts of things as well. They end up a vague “oh yeah” moment where you sort of recall but its too faint to remember the details.
How many times in your life have you tried to remember the funny moment, said something akin to it but follow with, “Well, it was better than that, it was SO funny.”?
How many times has someone done something for you, however small, that just made your day but you forgot it a day later because it became seemingly insignificant to the rest of life?
Ya, I thought so, too. A lot of times. Too many.
Well on my trip I have tried my best to write some of the more poignant and important ones down. Sad to say, I guarantee I have missed some that deserved to be on this list.
The Laughter:
- While sitting in what was most probably a trendy cafe in Berlin, though I am too naive and too untrendy to know or care, we got to talking about boogers thanks to Paul having one, if memory serves**. We talking about it for a good two minutes in the posh cafe. Thank god most people there most likely spoke german. Then Johanna, an Austrian, with a puzzled look on her face asks what a booger is! We explain. She replies, “Ohhhhh! Nose poop!” It instantly became a classic moment of my life in my mind. We all had a great laugh over it.
- On a wicked all-night bus trip that included a rather shady, unexplained bus transfer at 3:00 a.m., we (meaning the three Canadians, Rebecca, Kiri, and Ludo and myself) met three other Americans, Brittany, Chris and Thomas. We were all headed to Split, Croatia. Me and the Canadians had booked a super cheap apartment on Hostelworld.com for about 9€ a night per person (that’s cheap by the way). We recalled that the same place we booked had another apartment. They asked if they could join us. Sure, why not! I called the lady to come pick us up and explained we picked up a few more. She said OK.
Upon arriving, she put all of our bags in her Mercedes C-class and told the three women to get in. She look at the four of us men and said, “Boys - Easy walk!” Then described what sounded to be an easy enough path to the apartment. For the following five days, “easy walk” became the laughable catch phrase and set up some of the most memorable days of my entire adventure. I will never forget the moment when, after having been awake 29 hours, I was told to walk even more. Haha!
- Canadians who have never lived in the USA, without fail so far on my adventure, really do add “Eh?” to the end of anything resembling a defining statement or a question. Example #1: “That was great! Eh?” Apparently Canadians like looking for validation. I suppose this has something to do with Canada being Quasimoto-like, hidden away above the United States. God knows we don’t want the world knowing they exist. (I am kidding, I love all of my Cannuck friends, including those crazy Québécios) Example #2: “How ’bout a beer, eh?” Classic and oh-so-very-true. Why not just ask the damned question, eh?
- I had the opportunity one night to play some real, full-court basketball. I was stoked. It was an intramural game pitting American students (and me) versus Spanish students. All right! I get to throw down a good ol’ American basketball whooping to gain back some basketball-respect for the USA after our less than noteworthy performance at the 2004 Olympics in Athens (Tim Duncan and Allen Iverson earned the entire team a Bronze medal single-handedly). Well the Spaniards didn’t show. They got lucky cause I was on fire warming up. I went back to sit down with Nic and Simon. Simon had just arrived so I said to him, “Hey Simon, what’s up?”
Never in my life has someone, who I know speaks perfect english, given me the intense, scared look implying, “what the HECK did you just say?” but I got it from Simon. After his moment of shaken up silence, he replied, “I… I don’t quite know how to respond to that.” Nic and I about died laughing. Something so mundane, albeit a little colloquial perhaps, caused the largest linguistic disruption of Simon’s life. He is more than fluent in Spanish but “what’s up” rocked his world. Awesome***.
-I have written about him before. He is crude. He is unknowingly hilarious. He has a fetish involving Hong Kong. He is Giles, the exuberant, friendly Frenchman I met at a party one night in Paris while out with Chien-ying (Taiwanese) and Manu (French). I could spend a lot of time with set up and break down of the encounter but its all here. It took my entire being to not fall on the ground laughing and to just keep filming no matter what. Here are some (tame, kosher) highlights:
~ Singing out of tune: “Come from Halabama!!!”
~ “Misery?! Misery [Missouri] is not a state!”
~ Every facial expression and movement he made with his hands and body.
~ “I don’t care about the French, American, Russian s*** because in life, in the reality, we are like them, fam. Do you know what I mean? Me and you, you are American, I am french and I love you and you love me…”
~ “For sure, for suuure.”
~ “I have been in New Yooork… two daaays. It was very, very funky.”
- The situation that named this entry was just funny. I was talking with Brian, Luke, Mary and Jess here at Sidsmums last Friday (June 20th). Our conversation went from underpants to jelly (underwear and jam) in a few short minutes. We had a good laugh about it. All of it came from the fact that even though we all speak english and understand one another, what I call jelly, they call jam and what I call underwear (typically) they call underpants. Oh, the simple things in life!
The Kindness:
- Unknown Parisian Mother. I was standing an the Metro/RER platform at Gare du Nord in Paris. Lost as to which direction I needed. An older French couple approached me looking for assistance with directions as well. Then a random Parisian woman with a toddler in a stroller approached me and the couple. She looked at them and told them exactly what they needed to know in French and turned to me and told me where I needed to go in perfect English. I had been on the ground in France less than thirty minutes and the Parisian stereotype was obliterated in my mind.
- Misha. Writing his name simply explains it all while simultaneously never being enough. I have spent over two weeks with him in Namur, Belgium over the course of the previous five months. Each time, it was generally on short notice but he couldn’t have been more welcoming or more energetic about my being there. I have made new friends everywhere and I am proud to say that Misha is one of them.
- The Favottos. They, too, possess an overwhelming ability to make one feel welcome. They welcomed me into their home and, from my perspective, into their family. I spent over two and a half weeks with them through parts of February and March. After the initial three days, they offered me a spare apartment they had and then the four of them opened up to me, involved me in their daily lives and I owe them everything for my newfound obsessions with northern Italy, Prosecco, and home-cooked Italian food. The Favottos also increased my understanding that anyone - absolutely anyone - can become family.
- Ray, the cycling Canadian. I met Ray walking up a hill. This may strike you as an odd detail to mention but it was the uphill street of all uphill streets. Honestly, the city of Sete, France, should put in an elevator because it was about a quarter of a degree short of being impassable. Ray was pushing his bike, and all his gear attached to it, up the hill. Once up top we got to talking while waiting for the benchmark of a customer service rep of the Sete hostel to come back from his break. The conversation did not end for quite a few hours. I don’t know when it started or stopped but it was long enough cover all our work experiences, education, travels, desired travels, family, US/Canadian/World politics and the kitchen sink. It also included dinner, compliments of Ray. I tried to pay for my sandwich and drink but he promised he could afford it. Thanks!
This is where the story ended for a few weeks. Then one day I got an email from him while I was in Granada. He explained his email provider was not working properly while he was on the road in France but that he really enjoyed our conversations and my website. He also added that he sent me $180 USD. I was blown away. I didn’t know how to thank him, in fact I used that very phrase. He wrote me back saying my response was more than enough. I sent him 2-3 photos of Sete. It was his random act of kindness that inspired me to start logging these experiences for use on a later date on the blog. Thanks, Ray!
- Jan, a.k.a. Sid’s mum. I spent two weeks or so at the end of March volunteering at Sidsmums backpackers retreat, as you have now read a few times if you follow my blog with any regularity. Letting me volunteer may not seem like a random act of kindness, though it is a very kind and gracious set up. What struck me more was Jan’s motherly qualities. While I was here, much of it alone, she gave me little things like eggs, chocolate, milk, and various other food items. Whether she realized it or not, it was incredibly meaningful to me. It doesn’t end there, though.
On two occasions during our usual morning meetings she told me to just take the day off from volunteering. Even upon my questioning or protest she emphatically told me to relax. Wonderful! Finally, on my day of departure for Barcelona, I offered Jan 20€ for her “sick van fund.” She absolutely refused. I had saved countless amounts of money but she told me I needed it more than she did. Maybe when I leave this time she will take it? I doubt it.
- Guillaume and Chien-ying. These two, though wildly different people, did the exact same thing for me in the exact same city. They both gave me a place to stay in Paris for free! One of the more expensive cities you can try to visit and I had places to sleep that saved me boatloads of money. But more importantly, I made two new friends from two opposite corners of the world!
- Koen the Flemmish Belgian. Koen is an extremely nice Belgian fellow that I met in Carcassonne, France. He is on couch surfing and said I should come surf if I came back through Belgium. The opportunity presented itself when Matt came and spent ten days traveling with me. Koen and I set up the dates and everything was ready. The day we arrived, Koen collected us up from the train station, showed us to his flat and took us on a walk around his university’s city, Gent, Belgium. Upon arriving back at his flat he tells me that he is going home for the weekend to study. He handed me the keys to his building and flat. Talk about trust! I had spent about 14 hours with the guy and he lets me and a total stranger stay in his place. He, along with everyone mentioned above, will always have a couch to crash on should they visit where I live.
Koen walking through a designated graffiti passage in Gent, Belgium.
- Public transportation tickets. Twice in the past month, I have met random individuals who have given me tickets to use on the local public transport. Once in Gent, Belgium, an old couple just walked up to me and started speaking Dutch. Koen explained I didn’t understand but the man kept rambling. At then end of the ramble, he smiled and handed me a ticket and walked away. Then, not two weeks later, I met a Candian man and his father (whose names have escaped my memory! If you read it, please do send me a message!). We had been on the train from Caen, France, to Paris. Once in Gare St. Lazare it became obvious we were all looking for the same Metro line. We got to talking and the son, who I recall works in Switzerland now, offered me a Metro ticket! Great, I didn’t have to wait in an ungodly line to buy a ticket (I had only bills, no change). We talked a bit on the train, I gave them my website and that was that. But it totally made my day and saved me a lot of stress!
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These may be the most memorable but I want to point out that the ones I have forgotten, the ones that will only be vague, ghostly memories are some of the most important parts of life. Those moments enrich us everyday and we don’t even realize it. I am going to do my best, from now on, to appreciate those moments as they come me.
If you really think about it, as I have said before, life is made up of tons of little moments strung together into large swaths of time and place we call memories. Things get blocked up, mashed together, and mixed up all the time.
Time to start unmixing.
**Side Note: My memory is generally, and scarily, impeccable if I do say so myself. 
But on this trip I have experienced so much, with so many people that it’s hard to recall some things fully without photos and the journal I keep. Maybe this is because at home, all the external players involved generally constant: friends and family. While on the road, the players change everyday. Hmm?
*** “Awesome” is apparently overused by Americans. Though I argue with my British and Aussie comrades-in-english that they use “brilliant” in the same way. And don’t get me started on how often they say “bits” and “heaps,” respectively. Ha!
Normandy… Sounds oddly familiar to me.
The Norman flag at Mt. St. Michel. I want one for my future residence.
The hills around Preixan and Sidsmum’s in March, 2008.
The vineyards around Sidsmum’s in March. Now they are an explosion of vines and green.
