Meet the Family

It was soon dark outside. Talk between Kitty and I ground to a halt as we started giving in to complete exhaustion. An hour in to the journey, we arrived at Rouen, Kitty’s stop. We said brief goodbyes, and she hopped off the train.

It was a lot emptier now. Exhaustion gripped me, I was fighting to stay awake, fearing for the safety of my luggage. I was also afraid I would miss my stop, a fact that was heightened each time the bus slowed and I heard the conductor saying something undeciferable over the loudspeaker.

A drunken old man in the same carriage as I tried to strike up a conversation. My french was good enough to be able to understand someone if they spoke very slowly and clearly, pronunciating perfectly.

An old drunk guy is not prone to do this. To me, he was ranting gibberish. I tried the old “je ne parle pas francais” and “je ne comprends pas” but it just seemed to annoy him. He began yelling something at me, perhaps the french xenophobia coming through, perhaps thinking I was just pretending to to not understand him.

I was very thankful when he got off a few stops later… however by this point I was the only person left that I could see. When the conductor again uttered his distorted information through the loudspeaker, I stumbled up to the next carriage, and asked the sole inhabitant “quelle ville?” my accent dripping kiwifruit and buzzy bees.

“Yvetot” was the response. Not that I new where or what that was, I simply heard “eavetow” and knew that it didn’t sound at all like “le harvre”.

We continued onwards, and after a while, the garbled announcement came again. I strained and concentrated intently trying to make out what was being said. It sounded like Le Havre. Maybe. I wasn’t too sure. I put off as long as I could, noticing that everyone else was getting off the train. I poked my head out the doors. I couldn’t tell. But I had a good feeling about it.

I grabbed my luggage and descended from the train, praying like hell it wouldn’t leave me in some random place hours from where I should be. As it turns out, it didn’t leave at all. I was at the end of the line. Which was Le Havre.

What luck. I had probably been told that I would be getting out at the end of the line, but I couldn’t remember. Too much of a blur.

It was dark outside, with a light misty rain falling. I began walking with my gear along the quai owards the lights of the station. I couldn’t see anyone.

Then I looked up and saw three figures approaching me, an adult flanked by two children. I could only see the shadows at first, and then slowly they came into view properly. They were walking slowly, casually but purposefully, with smiles on their faces. I recognised Jean-Luc, my host father, from the photos sent, and the two children, Gal and Enora. It was like something out of a movie.

They helped me with my gear, and led me to the car. We spoke a bit. Well, mainly, Jean-Luc spoke and I listened. As we drove through Le Havre he told me how I could visit it on the weekends, if I wanted. It was the close city, after all.

I soon fell asleep, finally succumbing to exhaustion, awakening as we pulled into the driveway.

The house was absolutely beautiful, in classic Normand style. It seemed huge.

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It wasn’t covered in snow, however, that’s actually a photo from earlier this year, it’s all I had on hand ;)

Inside, I was given the grand tour. The lounge was absolutely beautiful, with an Oriental theme, ornaments and designs from Japan and China. Passing through the lounge one entered the dining room, then the official entry way to the house (we’d come in through the garage) and then into the kitchen.

My room was upstairs, above the garage. What was cool was that the lounge didn’t have a second story, yet lay between my room and the rest of the rooms, so I had a nice pathway against the wall looking down into the lounge. I”ll post a photo to show what I mean later on.

I dumped my gear in the room, and sat down on the bed. Someone called my name, and I grudgingly went to see what was happening.

Dinner time.

The kids had been sent to bed, so it was just Jean-Luc, Marie-Louise, and myself. I did not last long. I must have been at the table about 15 minutes before they realised that I was beginning to fall asleep. They told me to go to bed, an offer I was not going to refuse.

I went back upstairs, and clamboured into bed, falling asleep immediately. I was that exhausted. 40 hours of travelling since I had left Napier, with only three hours of sleep.

But, I’d made it. I was in France.

August 18, 2005 | Filed Under Classic, La France 

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