Pathways: The French Journey Continues

Attention! Long post!

The adventure of the typewriter and calculator

Regine Deforge

I spent yesterday with friends in a town called Montmorillion, Cite d’Ecrit. How coincidental to be in France to write (and speak French) and I am introduced to a town that is all about writing. Searching for “famous” people who might have come from there or even just written there, I found Régine Deforges, author of The Blue Bicycle among other novels/stories. She was born here, lived a very controversial life, and was the first woman publisher in France. Wow. What an achievement! All over town are signs and book shops and paper boutiques; anything at all to do with writing, it’s here. It’s nice to come to places like Montmorillion in the off season because there are no crowds. On the other hand, most shops are closed till the spring when the weather turns more pleasant. In a small museum, an exhibit of the history of the type-written word and calculation machines displayed the inventiveness of humans, how hungry we are for expressing ourselves either by what we write or by the things we invent to make life more interesting or “easier.” I took, of course, too many photos, but the imagination that was needed to arrive where we are today, and for where we go from here, was/is impressive, so I wanted to share.

Cracked me up!

a pleasant street...

One of the bookstores

It writes MUSIC!

We walked up and down small, pretty, and very clean streets, bought vegetables at a stall in the market as it was closing, and drank a coffee at a small café before heading off to do the rest of the shopping we’d come to town to do. Which turned out to be a bit of a shock for me as we were catapulted back into the “modern” world of E. Leclerc, a “Hypermarche”, like Walmart, which can be found all over France, along with SuperU or CarreFour. Talk about no culture, no history and no real feel of being anywhere special. Shopping at big super markets on the outskirts of these sweet towns jerks you completely out of any earthy/ancient feeling that sweet town might have given. You could be anywhere. There is no identity in stores like that.

Another store...

A big sign...

 

See the white on the road, it's a plume!

Books for Everyone! "To read is the only way to live more than one life at a time...

Curious and wary sheep

Gorse in bloom

So, today I took a walk in the country.  Alone. I’d gone walking two days ago with my friends and knew the healing properties of the venture would be revitalizing. I woke up, got dressed and, knowing it was forecast to rain, took a “Brolly,” as UK friends like to say, and made my way out of the sleepy little town of Azat-le-Ris into the even more sleepy countryside. I met only sheep along the way. Sheep, rain, and mud. The sheep stared at me and bleated as I walked by, giving me more attention than I deserved. The birds sang me along until the rain begin, and then there was the squishy sound of my footsteps on “les Chemins,” the muddy tractor paths used between the fields. With the brolly over my head, I cared little about the mud. Silence, and bright specks of yellow flowers and red berries here and there among the green fields and dark trees, ah, the “earthy/realness” of countryside. Perfection. I’m trying to find my writing spirit, my muse, my reason for being here. Yet I realize I also need to reconnect with my self, my surroundings, and my body, as well as my writing. I need to become whole again. I believe once these parts of me are satisfied, I will make my way to the people in my head and their stories. Until then I will write here and flex my literary muscles. I’m looking forward to tomorrow and the new paths I will follow, both with my fingers and my feet…

Not as muddy as some of the other paths...!