Première Expérience de la France - Prologue

Français - ambrosia for the ears. Mmmm, I like that. I think I've always been in love with the sound of the French language. It’s fluid, sensitive, and romantic. That’s how it comes across to me. Language is a personal and integral part of one’s culture. I have always been interested in France from the perspective of language. By the way, did you know it was spoken by the educated classes all across Europe for hundreds of years, prior to the 20th century? It was the lingua franca, or “bridge language", as English is today. This I learned while reading Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace. Even educated Russians spoke French back in the day.

I’m making my first trip to France, starting in Paris July 1st, to experience the French culture. There was a seed planted long ago in the form of language, but it didn't grow until receiving water from the French people whom I've recently met. I've said it before - Interesting stories are about people. So here are the people:

Left to Right: Bernard, Jean Michel, and Christophe; Jun 2010

Last summer (2010), I worked as a flight instructor for Jay Baldwin of Alaska's Cub Training Specialists out of Palmer, Alaska, specifically to assist with the training of three visiting Frenchmen in the art of Alaskan-style bush flying. They were Bernard, Jean Michel, and Christophe.

Bernard lives in Mions, France, and I’ll be seeing him on this trip. Let me tell you a little about him. Three stories do the job.

Bernard Story #1: We had just landed on a beach of Cook Inlet. It was a warm and sunny day. I began placing food out for the group like a picnic, of my own personal selection, wishing to satisfy the fine tastes of which I believed my new French friends were accustomed. Well it was mostly “finger food”, but there was a jar of peanut butter. I had forgotten a utensil for spreading it. I said to the group, ‘you can just use a stick if you’re not picky’ (pointing to the jar). Bernard looked at me and said, ‘what it mean, “picky”?’ I replied, ‘oh, it's when you like things to be a certain way I suppose’. To this Bernard quickly retorted, ‘oh, I am picky!’ Needless to say, Bernard had no peanut butter that day.

Bernard Story #2: As the instructor, I was sitting in the back of the Super Cub sort of giving pointers and directing the action. But Bernard was up front doing the flying. One of the routines was to “pull power” and simulate an engine failure in flight. The objective was to quickly find a suitable landing spot and make it. Bernard was having fun like a little kid on a carnival ride as we did this. I was delighted to witness his joy. He performed the maneuver flawlessly many times – circling tightly, descending aggressively, and pulling flaps with perfectly-executed timing for optimum performance. He absolutely nailed the touchdown spots on seemingly random gravel bars every time, all the while laughing with amusement. Bernard is an excellent and happy pilot.

Bernard Story #3: Bernard is a high time pilot and an Air France 747 Captain with a full career behind him. But his passion is personal flying in the Alps. So even though he’s from France, Bernard has extensive mountain flying experience. Apparently there is one glacier he gets to use for landings, which is located on the French side of 4,800 m (15,700 ft) Mont Blonc. Anyway, after Bernard patiently accepted his lessons from us so called "Alaskan bush pilots", it was Bernard’s turn to be professor. Another pilot had come in for a flight review and soon began mixing with us and talking with Bernard. At one point, he asked Bernard for some advice on a certain aspect of mountain flying, to which Bernard eagerly began a reply. Bernard then left for a short while before coming back with 7 pages of hand written notes, that he had apparently just written, to begin a class on the nuisances of mountain flying and glacier landings. I’m a mechanical engineer, and I’m telling you Bernard had dug deep, summoning the powers of diagrams, equations, and higher math. There may have even been a hint of Chinese algebra. The pilot who had asked the original question, Christophe, Jean Michel, and I sat quietly, absorbing all we could, but probably being mostly dumbfounded. Finally, Jean Michel exclaimed, ‘he’s like this back home too, and we don’t understand him either’. I still have Bernard’s notes.

Jay Baldwin with Bernard, Jean Michel, and Christophe; Jun 2010

Jean Michel piloting a Super Cub; Jun 2010

Ceren in Thailand; Jun 2011 (photo by Ceren)

I met Ceren in Sydney, Australia last December, after she had responded to my Craigslist ad where I was requesting to rent a room in the big city for a week (see Return to Oz - Day 1). We've stayed in touch since. She was born and raised in Paris, but was in Australia on a working holiday visa. She recently left Australia for home though, spending a couple weeks passing through Thailand and Laos on the way. Ceren's an excellent photographer. I've seen some of her work posted to Facebook. Her parents are Turkish, and she once worked at the world-famous Louvre Museum. Maybe she can get me a personal visit with Mona Lisa! She's already tipped me off that she's the best guide ever (and I totally believe it!), suggesting parks, the Rodin Museum, and methods for navigating Paris.

Ceren and I spent most of one day together when I was in Sydney (see Return to Oz - Day 4). I found her to be charming, insightful, smart, strong, confident, adventurous, and feminine. It was good to share our perspectives on Australia, from the point of view of two different cultures. I was supposed to take her flying too, but there were delays in processing my temporary Australian pilot's certificate, so it didn't work out. Her reaction to the bad news about not getting to go flying was rather humorous. She stomped up and down, pouted, and in using the voice of a little girl with a french accent, exclaimed three times in quick succession, "I want to go flying! I want to go flying! I want to go flying!" (Moral of the story is don't get a girl's hopes up?) I thought to myself, 'is this the way of the French?' It was all I could do to watch and not break into laughter as I consoled her broken heart. Xxoo Ceren! Love ya girl.

Ceren introduced me to some of her friends too, one of whom is named Dalia.

Dalia in Hong Kong; sometime in 2008 (photo by Dalia)

I met Dalia briefly on the first day of my last trip to Australia (see Return to Oz - Day 1). I think I was instantly stunned in her presence, for my instincts were telling me that this was an awesome person. She exuded confidence, had a calm, strong demeanor, and seemed to be looking out into the world, searching and inquisitive. That was pretty much it. I continued my lengthy trip through Australia, returned home, and kept in touch with Ceren through Facebook. I didn't forget about Dalia, but she was a chance meeting that had it's moment in time - until I saw her again on Ceren's Facebook page. That's when I took the opportunity to say salut (hi) again. I'm so glad I did.

I learned that Dalia had returned to her home in Marseille, which is in the south of France. She didn't want to leave Australia, but her visa had expired. I've enjoyed getting to know more about Dalia. She is complex, like France. I'm excited she's going to be showing me around her beautiful region. Above is a picture of her from one of her Facebook photo albums. It was taken while she was on her way to Australia. She looks very different in this photo from when we met, and it's one of my favorites of her. It makes me wonder, 'how did Australia change Dalia?' I'm fairly certain we share this in common: Our hearts belong to Australia. I miss it too Dalia, very much.

Dimitri (left) and Alexi

Enjoying Christmas on a Salt Flat in Western Australia; Dec 2010

Dimitri and his friend Alexi were enjoying their Christmas dinner in the middle of nowhere, on a salt flat in Western Australia, when I came racing down the highway doing 130 kph. 'Screeech', went my tires! Demitri and Alexi had placed out a table, chairs, food, and wine. It was blisteringly-hot, with a searing wind and blinding sun (see Return to Oz - Day 16). This was too awesome a scene, and I just had to have a picture.

We seemed to have that instant bond fellow travelers share upon meeting. I told them their picture would be in my blog and gave them my card in hopes of hearing about their adventures. Dimitri ended-up e-mailing me and told me of his travels for the 5 months after, which included time in Southeast Asia and the USA. He has now returned home to the Bordeaux area of France where he’s a surf monitor at a surf school at Lacanau Ocean. Dimitri said I’m welcome anytime, so we will be seeing him soon too!

Sabine (photo by Sabine)

A late surprise and development is a side trip into Germany. Sabine lives in Stuttgart, and we’re good mutual friends with Mike Richmond. Sabine and I met a few years ago at one of Mike’s house parties in Fairbanks, Alaska where Sabine was attending college. Sabine and I just met again through Facebook, and upon catching up about Mike, and me mentioning plans to be in France, Sabine offered to show me around for a weekend. I couldn't refuse! Mike raves about Sabine. He holds her in the highest regards. So I very much look forward to getting to know Sabine and am grateful for the opportunity.

These wonderful people, and the rest whom we haven't yet met, we’ll be seeing along the way. We'll also be comparing cultures of The United States, Australia, France, and Germany.

Première Expérience de la France

Prologue

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