Things Are Not Always What They Seem

Chasse is my roost for 9-10 months in France. No matter how often I travel or for how long I'm gone, I come back to Chasse. It's where two suitcases of my stuff is. It's where my job is, but it isn't completely where my heart is.

Chasse and I have a rollercoaster relationship.

One day, I'm on a pleasant walk up the forest road that leads to farms that sit on the edge of small cliffs overlooking Chasse and I see a baby lamb looking at me curiously from behind a fence on a green hillside with a chateau-esque building in the distance. Someone might drive by thinking I might like a ride down into Chasse so I don't have to walk. The thought is very kind, but my purpose is to walk. On days like these, I'm content to be there.

View from the top of my walk up the forested road leading to the countryside in the hills above Chasse.

Another day or possibly that same day, someone will stop their car and ask for directions while I'm wandering around and when I don't know where something is, they shake their heads, maybe even giving me the hand and a sigh as if they've already wasted enough of their time. Then, the train that I've planned on taking to get out of there, has either been "deleted" or leaves later due to more railway construction. Two or more of these tiny little events can cause a downward spiral so steep and fast that I've completely forgotten about the baby lamb.

As a fairly patient and adaptable person, this comes as a surprise to me. I had one of those days today. A black and white day, one with sun and rain, one with so much positivity and so much negativity that today seemed like two days.

I woke up to chainsaws trimming the trees in the schoolyard. It was okay, they started at 9, not extremely early. I decided to get up. With not enough food for breakfast, I got dressed, grabbed my huge plastic bag and walked to the grocery store. As I was shopping, my stomach growling, I ran into a colleague from school. Caught off guard while admiring my cheese options, I was at a loss for what to say. One of the nicest of my colleagues, she seemed pleased to see me and started chattering away. Some people I find easier to speak to in French and for some reason unknown to me, she is not one of those people. It's almost as if she doesn't completely hear what I say and therefore, I'm more likely to put my verbs in the past rather than the present or vice versa.

After my debaucle of awful French conversation, I walked home with my groceries feeling a bit down on myself for not being able to hold a smoother dialogue. I kept telling myself, that I was having an off-couple of days. I could barely concentrate in French class the previous night either. By the time I got home, I'd fallen onto the couch, leaving my grocery bag by the fridge. Feeling a little down, I just lay there until forcing myself to get to the post office where I had to mail my rent money.

It was a refreshing January afternoon. Not warm at all, but certainly brisk. I wandered around slowly, not yet wanting to go home after the post office. Walking past a huge building on the way to the train station, I decided to walk up some stairs to see what it was exactly. It's not possible to see from the street. I stumbled upon a miniature park, then found a sign for a music school and the youth and culture house. Most every city, village, or town in France has a maison des jeunes et de la culture or M.J.C. These centers usually have programs for children, adolescents, and adults, like artistic and sporty activities.

I went into the building, but no one was there, so I took a brochure. Chasse's M.J.C. offers:

judo, modern dance, shooting, badminton, gymnastics, hiking, art and decoration, yoga, ftness classes, gym "douce" (I can't translate this) 'soft or easy gym', and aqua gym. I had no idea Chasse had a pool or a M.J.C. I was also excited to learn that I could sign up for yoga classes on Wednesday nights. Just the particular night I was looking for some kind of activity, something to do in this sleepy town of 4,000 people. I plan on heading back there after pay day to sign up.

A bit more cheerfully, I walked home and ran into one of my students and his family. He was really excited to see me and greeted me with a chipper hello, baguette under his 9 year old arm. Seeing my students on the street is a fresh reminder that I'm here to help them with their English. A reminder of my purpose for being where I am.

Just as I entered the parking lot of the school, I saw an old-ish map that I'd never really looked at before. It said, Pays Viennois: Balades et Promenades. I did a double-take. After scouring my tiny seeming desolate town for places to walk, trails leading into forests, I had given up on local hikes. This map had a list of at least ten hikes, their length, and what one would see (chateaus, rolling hills, ancient churches, wildlife). There was only one that seemed reachable by foot from Chasse. The others were scattered and would require taking a bus or train to get there, hence a hassle.

I could see that the one hike nearest Chasse appeared to stem from the forest road walk I generally take past the baby lamb. Immediately I began daydreaming of spring morning hikes. And I wouldn't even have to leave Chasse (like I've had to for the past four months to see anything 'seemingly' noteworthy).

It appears that I should have looked a little closer and not just quickly scan over the place I call home for my 9-10 months here.