La Cardere
The dog is itching and restless. He desperately needs more baths, and I desperately need to help him. A cold rain has fallen relentlessly all day for two days. It's so... Irish!
Today, finally, the sun shines. Every hour or so I check the temperature, unwilling to subject him to bathing outdoors until it creeps closer to 70F. Maybe 67F will do, the predicted high. I want to hike today, but I've promised: first, a bath for Homie.
La Cardere was many things, most of them good. The hardest thing for me, even harder than not using English, was being so relentlessly proper for so long. On the last evening I raised eyebrows by sitting on the floor and slipping my shoes off in response to the Englishman playing his guitar and singing in French. What a lovely voice and manner he had, and how horribly he treated his wife!
At the end of the first week I was so frantic to get off by myself for a day that I took a notion to leave, only to find that one cannot simply take off from a house in the French campagne. A taxi should have been reserved three days in advance! A simple but stubborn miscommunication while trying to make these impossible plans threw me into tears. Tears were followed by a migraine, so I spent a day under covers in bed, indirectly accomplishing my escape. That day in bed, while not highly regarded by my hosts, allowed me to rest and heal. The second week I talked more and felt more comfortable with the new group of students. But by its end I was exhausted and more than ready to leave La Cardere behind.
Aside from my emotional ordeal, I have to say that this little school was truly surprising, effective, and nourishing. I wish I could recommend it to all and sundry, but tragically, this month is its last. La Cardere is no more. Danielle and Claude have decided that economically it just isn't good enough any longer, and maybe, like me, they are also simply exhausted with doing it for so many years.
As teachers, they were astonishingly good. They excelled on so many levels it is difficult to describe. Not just language, but the music of language. Not just culture, architecture, and history, but the passion for them. They enforced their code of behavior by expectations alone, and they rewarded our presence in their home with nourishing, healthy, organic, delicious, and beautifully presented meals. I felt pampered, even as I felt pushed to the limits of my endurance living a life not my own. I do not expect that they could comprehend or accept how stressful a pampered life in the beautiful, quiet countryside can be for an eccentric like me!
Today, finally, the sun shines. Every hour or so I check the temperature, unwilling to subject him to bathing outdoors until it creeps closer to 70F. Maybe 67F will do, the predicted high. I want to hike today, but I've promised: first, a bath for Homie.
La Cardere was many things, most of them good. The hardest thing for me, even harder than not using English, was being so relentlessly proper for so long. On the last evening I raised eyebrows by sitting on the floor and slipping my shoes off in response to the Englishman playing his guitar and singing in French. What a lovely voice and manner he had, and how horribly he treated his wife!
At the end of the first week I was so frantic to get off by myself for a day that I took a notion to leave, only to find that one cannot simply take off from a house in the French campagne. A taxi should have been reserved three days in advance! A simple but stubborn miscommunication while trying to make these impossible plans threw me into tears. Tears were followed by a migraine, so I spent a day under covers in bed, indirectly accomplishing my escape. That day in bed, while not highly regarded by my hosts, allowed me to rest and heal. The second week I talked more and felt more comfortable with the new group of students. But by its end I was exhausted and more than ready to leave La Cardere behind.
Aside from my emotional ordeal, I have to say that this little school was truly surprising, effective, and nourishing. I wish I could recommend it to all and sundry, but tragically, this month is its last. La Cardere is no more. Danielle and Claude have decided that economically it just isn't good enough any longer, and maybe, like me, they are also simply exhausted with doing it for so many years.
As teachers, they were astonishingly good. They excelled on so many levels it is difficult to describe. Not just language, but the music of language. Not just culture, architecture, and history, but the passion for them. They enforced their code of behavior by expectations alone, and they rewarded our presence in their home with nourishing, healthy, organic, delicious, and beautifully presented meals. I felt pampered, even as I felt pushed to the limits of my endurance living a life not my own. I do not expect that they could comprehend or accept how stressful a pampered life in the beautiful, quiet countryside can be for an eccentric like me!
posted by Cranky Ol' Lady at 12:52 PM
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