27/2 - By now you've probably heard I went to France to stay in the home of a total stranger for a night. The trip was a massive success, and it was defined by unexpected surprises and a new friend in a far away land. But I still have no idea what anyone is saying in French.
Marie was waiting for me in the ferry terminal in Cherbourg. She recognized me straight away, which was great because I didn't have to wander around by myself. We walked back to her place in the city center. I found out she is 33 and studies literature at a school in Paris. She lives in Cherbourg during the weekends or weeks like this when she doesn't have school. She's also a language tutor, considering she speaks French, English, Polish, Portuguese and German, and she's a riding instructor. She has her own horse in a public stable west of Cherbourg.
Her house is a small flat with enough room for really only one person. The first floor has a tiny kitchen with two burners, a sink and one of those ovens you cook hotdogs in. There's also the bathroom and a closet on the floor, but the tightly spiraling stairs that lead to the second floor block part of it. The second floor is the living area with a bookcase, TV, desk and futon that transforms into a bed. The third floor is Marie's room. It's a very tight space, but it's just enough room for one person; it's basic and humble.
I brought her some red wine and dark chocolate as a thank you for opening her home to me. As it turns out, Marie reminds me a lot about my cousin Ivey. It's really easy to make her laugh and she's a bit clumsy by her own admission. She also has a thing for Disney characters.
She told me about Cherbourg, about how it's a city that is difficult to work in because of the economy and how it doesn't feel alive. Of course, I thought it was a great city, with hills rising up just a short distance away from the shore and the defensive forts that guard the harbor.
One of the favorite things that happened was our trip to the stables Thursday morning. I knew I'd meet Marie's horse; I did not expect to ride it. She told me the horse and I seemed like a good fit based on how we interacted while she was prepping to ride, and while riding, she said she was impressed by how I stayed calm and seemed in control when the horse got spooked or tripped on a rock in the sand. But riding, to me, is like riding a bicycle; you never forget how. And that's true as I was comfortable on the horse and it seemed natural. I like horses though; they're very gentle creatures. And I liked that stable too because there were several other horses and a great big shaggy dog that was way too excited to meet me.
But as we walked down the drive and across the road, dodging traffic along the way, I found myself in awe of the moment once again. Here I was, riding a horse along a road (and eventually the beach) in France. I didn't know I'd be doing this last Saturday! I began to smile while riding the horse just thinking about this. I couldn't believe my luck. It was another one of those spontaneous adventures that are always better than planning something in advance. Also, it was strange that being in France didn't seem that far away from home. The ferry ride was only three or four hours. Speaking of the ferry, it's only 15 minutes away from me on foot so that's another plus.
The other unexpected thing that happened to me was when I was visiting the aquarium before the ferry left for Poole. In an exhibit about the Titanic and emigration, I found the Declaration of Intention record for Olaf Lingberg when he emigrated to America from Sweden in 1912; he was 43 years old at the time. The record observed he was 5'9" and 144 pounds, had brown hair, and I believe it says he had tattoos on both arms. I got a thrill from this, and it's another reminder why knowing exactly where your name comes from is a good idea.
While going to France to stay with a complete stranger takes a lot of trust on both sides (and a bit of naivety) it was a great experience. I made a new friend and definitely will go back, though I'll have a better knowledge of French next time. It goes to show people around the world are generally similar, though with different accents.
27/2 - While I didn't worry about missing Wednesday's lecture about sport fan violence for my trip to France, I had to be back for today's visit to Littledown Centre, which is a giant sport and leisure center in Bournemouth. It has two swimming pools, a couple gyms, several playing fields, spas, cafeteria, sport hall and several other purposes. I'm learning in this class about sport venue management that venues are very complex, especially public swimming pools. There are so many moving parts. Looking at these places from a different perspective will make visiting a gym not quite the same ever again. How's the ventilation system? Can you smell chlorine in the poole? If so that means it's not safe to swim in. Is there condensation of pool water? If so, the that condensation is very corrosive. Where is a gym in relation to which floor it's on? Will it make noise? Will dropping weights damage the structure of the building? It all makes your head spin, but this is a useful class. And the lecturer, (tip-top) Gary, seems like he's done it all. He's got lots of connections it sounds like.
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