What I Have Learned

Cutting platane trees along the Canal

 I have learned so many new things since coming here that sometimes, I swear, my brain is sore, like a muscle that gets over-used.  Among the mundane information I have acquired, I can list things like: the discovery of white beets (really, I had no idea and what does that do to the expression "red as a beet?"); the number #3 Bus line back into town doesn't always come all the way to the Dome, (It's best to have the printed schedule with you) and you are forbidden to photograph the faces of police officers.

Attaching the crane cable

On another, more important and more difficult level, I have had to learn new measurements-- kilos and grams instead of pounds and ounces; new temperature readings (maybe one day I will simply think in C and stop converting to Fahrenheit); how to play the piano (thank God all those composers are dead and can't hear how badly I butcher their creations)  and a new language (that has been harder and yet more joyful than I expected).  It's no wonder that I feel tired sometimes. 

Working in the trees

The second most important thing I have learned, especially true when it comes to learning to adapt and thrive in a new culture-- is that what I know is not nearly as important as what other people have to teach me. I know that I have often been guilty of wanting to impress others with my vast knowledge on certain subjects and it's perhaps a natural response.  I see other people doing it, often not even allowing the first person in the conversation to finish his or her sentence.  I wonder why we do that?  Oldest child know-it-all-ism?  Insecurity?  Having no significant person in our lives who will listen to us?  That speculation is for another time and with people who know far more than I know about  human behavior .    

Activity reflected in the water

Asking for help or for information from other people and then, actually listening to their answers rather than planning what I am going to add to the conversation has opened more doors for me here in southern France than perhaps anything else I could have done.  

Yesterday it happened again.  First of all, I got to learn about white beets....and how excited the young woman at the market was to share that information with me.  She beamed when I guessed that they were potatoes.  It made for a pleasant conversation and took our relationship from mere vendor-purchaser to one where I feel like a recognized client.

Piece of the tree is brought across the Canal

Later in the afternoon I decided to take a long walk along the Canal.  I was looking for signs of spring.  It was a warmish day and the air finally lacked the teeth of winter.  Suggestions of spring were all around me: flowering trees in full ball gowns; the city worker firing up the lawn mower at Gambetta; the tour boats chugging east on the Canal.  It would seem that the only place where spring is not in evidence is inside my apartment; these thick stone walls of the building hold the cold like the proverbial sorceress's bosom. 

Suspended by the cable

My preferred walking route was barred and fenced because workers were taking down the very sick platane trees.  These trees are much loved here in France, often photographed and line both sides of the Canal in many spots.  They've been afflicted with a blight that, if not discovered and treated in time, results in certain death for these mighty trees.  There's been a lot of controversy over the drastic measure--cutting--but I think these trees were too far gone to be saved.

I probably should have turned around, but I skirted the fencing and the barriers to get closer to get some good (or in my case, okay) photos of the work.  Nobody came forward to stop me, so I drew closer.  Eventually a young man in coveralls approached me.  I told him that I used to live in an area where there was a lot of tree cutting and I would like to send back some photos to my friends...."of how it's done in France,"  He finished my sentence for me with obvious pride in his voice.  Then he proceeded to walk me to the towpath and drew a line in the gravel.  He explained to me that this would be a great spot for photographing the action, and that I should wait behind the line.  Eventually the crane would bring the tree across the Canal and add it to the other pieces of the tree that were lying there.

Added to the pile

 I should not have been in that work area, but I guess I don't look reckless.  And the young man was right; it was the perfect spot for getting a good shot of the action.  After the tree was brought to his side of the Canal and laid with the other pieces, he came over and talked to me some more about the trees.  The red color of the wood indicates blight.  He talked about pruning the platanes, and trying to stem the disease.  He let me get close enough to touch and smell the cut wood, and then he took pictures of me.  Finally he told me, rather reluctantly, that I should probably go, because le chef would not be happy to see me there.  I thanked him for his time, and his indulgence and for the information.  More learning.  

Red interior

I didn't set out to have a photo session of tree cutting, but it's what presented itself to me.  I would say that the single most important lesson I have learned is to be open to whatever presents itself.  The Universe, the Divine will always put something interesting in my path if I will stop to see it.  

Bigger tree than I thought