Obligatory "Wow stuff is different in France!" post.
And an apology...
First and foremost: these blog posts tend to be written on the fly with maybe one quick proofread. Sometimes less than that. Consequently the emailed version invariably includes a few typos or spelling mistakes. Five minutes later I read the emailed copy, see them, and fix the on-line version. So my apology for what looks like sloppy editing.
Second: my endless thanks to the generous paying subscribers. One of my goals in France is to make writing my primary income, so these contributions really do help, both to pay the bills, and to encourage me to keep writing.
Wow stuff is different in France! I’ll be honest. This is one topic that I’d rather avoid.* Obviously a new country and new culture will mean changes, but that’s exactly the reason why we’re here: change.
Besides, after a couple of mostly sleep filled days I’m realising that the biggest changes involve what the French haven’t changed.
The big one yesterday was during our drive from Bordeaux to Varaignes, a trip that took us from big national motorways, to regional roads, to divine two lane and less than two lane local roads.
You would need to look long and hard to find roads like these in British Columbia any longer. Decades of car-culture and infrastructure spending have left almost every road four lanes or more wide, with corners and hills eliminated in favour of long, boring expanses of pavement.
I can remember driving from Vancouver to Kelowna in the 70s and 80s when the Hope-Princeton and Highway 97 were both still two lane roads, with passing lanes every now and then. Until yesterday I had forgotten that those roads were fun to drive, and required a level of skill and attention that the Coquihalla will never need.
And that, I suppose, is why every one of our rental cars is constantly screaming, flashing, or beeping at me to warn that I’m near the edge of the road, or that there is a car in the adjacent lane, or that I’m backing up towards a post.
Sigh. I can remember when we all took responsibility for what we did, and didn’t require endless warnings, admonishments, and interruptions from our machines.
* Obvious exception: discovering that the $25 Cotes du Rhone wines that we have enjoyed are at the Intermarché for under 5 euros…
Each time we have a guest from Britain or Europe here in Canada, their first eye opening amazement is not only how wide our roads, community streets and highways are, but also how one can drive for expansive miles on them and sometimes not ever meet another vehicle.
When we traveled their roads, we found it fabulous and almost fairytale like to round one bend and another, almost a game of anticipation whether we'd meet another vehicle, more aware of the trails than we, or even a tractor or passel of chickens. I found it absolutely delightful, almost "Land of Nod" like, as one dear friend put it. Then again, I wasn't traversing the helm.
Write on, my dear. Write on!