Playing Hookey

Mondays are usually heavy writing days, but this Monday, I decided I was going to play hookey with a friend. With predictions of snow proving to be false, we went to our original plan, a visit into small villages between Belgarde and Lyon.

Now any excursion with this friend results in a flood of conversation on anything from personal to scientific, creative to nostalgia and back again always interrupted by observations of what is around us.

With the rock formations, confectionate sugar dusting of the Jura, valleys and rivers flush with melting ice water sending thousands of temporary diamonds our way many sentences were paused with “oh look”s followed by the ahhh that couldn’t have been stopped.

One of our discussion topics was living in the present and with all our senses engaged we were present even to the pizza stop (so many restaurants close on Monday in France that we took what we could find). The waitress not only gave good service, she gave good directions. My friend had learned my navigation skills left much to chance something my daughter would confirm had my friend asked. The walls of the restaurant were decorated with what at first we thought were batik but closer observation turned out to be painted cloth with a decided Asian feel.

We found our cloister and church going back to the ninth century. The current priest had been born a Jew of Russian descent and was headed for a career in the theatre, following in his father’s footsteps until he converted. Later the father taught theatre and his students could be found listed on any cinema’s coming attractions. The priest hadn’t given up his artistic desires totally. He was active in producing the baroque music that the church produced, even initiating their own label.

On a February Monday we were alone in this tiny town with a big sound. The toilets were locked. We asked at the tourist office and they kindly let us use theirs.

A girl friend long ago complained she was like a vacuum cleaner with some friends. She felt after a short time she had whooshed them up and there was nothing more to learn or share. This friend is different, our discussion list grows, our things-to-share grows in the present and in the future.