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The Ellis Page French Sabbatical |
Master of Arts in Counseling Psychology ("MAC") 13. To England and Home
It was extremely hot in Frichebois so we spent several afternoons swimming in the nearby Charante River. We also saw some sightseeing, of course, including the terrible, island prison of Fort Boyard and the marvelous little Château de la Roche-Courbon Mainly, though, we just tried to keep cool. One day, we went to a nearby village on the Charente, where we rented a pedal-boat and had a lot of fun. Here's a photo of Braden pedaling his boat down the river (up was more of a problem!). Dominique even coaxed (badgered?) me into going in for a dip. It had been a long time since he had swam anywhere, much less against a river current. After a few minutes of swimming, my arms felt like stones. Still, it was very refreshing and I did better than Dominique expected me to do. The day we were scheduled to return to Le Havre, I awoke feeling sick. I was so groggy that I kept falling into deep naps on the couch. Merry and the boys packed the car and she drove while I slept most of the way. The boys had never gone up the Eiffel Tower and we had promised that as a birthday present for David. I would gladly have skipped it! We even asked an attendant if there were a faster way down than waiting in a half-hour line for the elevator down. It felt like the "Hey, I'm sick - give me special treatment" scam but we got down just as the vomiting and diarrhea hit - that could have been a problem! Back in Le Havre, they said they had never seen anyone looking as "gray around the gills" as I did. I had night sweats and was in the bathroom every five minutes. Because Sunday was our last chance to attend the church, we all still went, It was a bittersweet time of goodbyes. Because
it was $500 cheaper to fly out of London and into Vancouver, Canada (my
home town) we took my cousin, Michael Harding, up on his offer of having
us come and visit for a couple of days.
That also gave us something to lesson the sadness of leaving
France. The problem was that we had acquired so much
"stuff." Worse, we
had been allowed 60 kilos coming to France but were only allowed 30 kilos
back because this was a charter
flight. We
ended up
giving lots of things away, but there was still far, far, too much.
We sold our car for $2,000 below its value and interest free to help Nadine, one of our dear friends (far right). There was a lot of waving and we felt an out-pouring of love as the ferry pulled away from the dock. In
England, the news was not good. We
were looking at $1,000+ in penalties. We made plans to ship a box of books
but it was like brushing snow off the sidewalk during a snowstorm.
We were hundreds of pounds overweight. On the bright side, Michael
took us to Henry VIII's Hever Castle, home of Anne Bolyne. It
boasted an
elaborate maze that we enjoyed and a presentation of live hunting owls.
Braden was able to have one perched on his arm. Saturday I awoke from a dream that all would be well; we'd get everything on the plane with no penalties at all. But how? Our family was allowed a total of 250 pounds and we must have had close to 800. (Michael had to rent a small truck to transport all the luggage to Gatwick airport!) Once there, we learned that the flight was “delayed until tomorrow!" The plane had hydraulic problems and we were all grounded. Most passenger were furious - but every cloud has a silver-lining. When it was finally our turn at the counter, I gave them bag after bag...and still they kept coming. "How many more bags do you have?" "Sorry..." "Humm, well, I guess we're delaying you, so we'll just have to let you get away with it this time." Wow! Shock! When she said that, I even put on the box of books we had skimmed off to mail! And all with no penalty. We were so grateful! They bussed us to the Croydon Park Hotel in south London where we had two excellent rooms. While David and Braden went swimming in the hotel pool, we watched more of the strange and interesting game of cricket. Next morning, we heard that the plane was delayed even longer. The 24 hour-delay stretched to 30 hours in all. When the huge 747 finally took off, all 500 passengers broke into cheers and applause. I was worried about our WW II bullets from Omaha Beach but customs in Vancouver was no problem. The officer seemed more interested in what we thought about the airline's 30-hour delay than he did in asking us about what we had in our suitcases. And getting across the border into the United States was as easy. Consistent with the principal "Tell the Truth, but Don't Volunteer Anything not Asked" I had roughly the following conversation with the border guard: "Do you have any fruit or vegetables?" "No." "How long have you been in Canada?" "Two days." "Did you acquire anything in Canada?" "No" "Okay, go on through." I didn't tell him we had been in Europe for eight months, was carrying WWII bullets, and had 16 suitcases in the back end! He just answered what had been asked! So, nothing got searched. And we were home…. On to the next
French
Sabbatical page |
| For email contact use either: gellis@stmartin.edu or godfreymerry@home.com |
We
left the Alps to meet the Lechevalliers in Frichebois, near La Rochelle.
