Today I said au revoir to my old neighbourhood. Upon arrival, the door code had changed so I had to loiter at the door until a resident arrived and then lather on the “bon soir” and smile a lot, to get inside.
Seeing one wine glass empty, and one mug on the table is a little depressing, but – c’est la vie.
I took all 7 of my suitcases and my blender, and my bicycle and voila – upon me descended the neighbourhood for idle chit chat, in French, about my “demanagement” – evident from my belongings on the pavement.
As I was explaining to the boulangerie, and the old lady who lives upstairs and a random gentleman who stopped to admire my pink and purple bicycle – I realized – wow, I am easily speaking French !! I can speak French! I told the boulangerie my situation, and in these conversations I learn the lessons I miss in my class. Where I am moving is moins cher. Australia is tellement far away. I learned the difference between the words for crying , and raining.
In the worst, most difficult situation while I am trying to find a new home, negotiating with someone who is not who I thought .. dealing with disappointment and having to keep on working, living, every day : I can now speak to people around me!
Transferring a bicycle is a challenge, the first Uber arrived and flat out refused. I called another company and explained in French that it was a small road bike, all clean with a removable wheel – and a woman arrived with her car blaring bad music making the conversation even harder.. I ended up leaving the bicycle in the building.
C’est ça. That’s all.
The next chapter awaits…
here is a nice poem – for French practice: À la recherche du temps perdu, de Marcel Proust.