The sun washes out the fall colors as it climbs toward noon. We slowly pass orchards on one side of the canal, where wagons are being filled with the grapes. Fields of sunflowers yet to be harvested bent yearning toward the sun on the other. Chateaus that have overlooked this ground for 400 years are on the distant hills, as we approach a tunnel of plane trees that will engulf us in shade and hide us from view.
The next lock will close a little before 12 o’clock so as not to infringe on the lock keepers lunch. We could speed up and maybe make it before the lock closes, another lock behind us before lunch. The sun is warm, the canal peaceful. I am checking off benchmarks, efficiently using the day to accomplish my goals. I struggle with non-action.
A fisherman has parked beside the canal, his stool set in the sun for a day of waiting for a fish to bite. Just before entering the tunnel of trees and leaving the sun is a little wharf separated from the fisherman by 500 meters and the width of the canal. “There is a good place for lunch”, Lori points out, supported my my mother.
It would mean farther to go after lunch, but we wouldn’t be racing time to catch a lock and missing the delights of the day, besides there is a wharf here. Fortunately I am the only person on this boat obsessed with goals. I bring the boat in and tie up.
It was market day in Bram this morning. A small village built with streets arranged in concentric circles around a fortress church dating from the 12th century. We rode our bicycles the kilometer from the canal where we had moored for the night to find the village transformed into an outdoor market. The stalls began just as you entered the village on the main street then snaked through the town, a feast for the senses occupying the entire street with a menagerie of colors, smells and activity. When I had come into Bram the night before the streets were empty and signs of life were scarce, this mornings bustle elicits images of a summer fair. We moved from stall to stall selecting fruits, vegetables, cheeses, meats and bread intoxicated by the array of items, before returning to the boat to start our travel for the day. Now pulled to the side of the canal in the noon sun, we indulge in the harvest of the morning.
Mom and Lori started laying out this mornings bounty into a smorgasbord of local meats, cheeses, olives, bread and, of course wine, all displayed across the table on the deck of the boat in the sun. Time no longer mattered, the sun had taken the chill off of the fall morning, a light breeze blew the smell of autumn across the fields and we enjoyed it all while life went on around us, following the circadian clock of the season.
It didn’t take long that day, it was our second day on the canal, when I left my stress behind and changed the pace I was living at. I didn’t insist we depart just before one O’clock to ensure we were the first in the queue to enter the lock, we didn’t even depart at one O’clock and I was fine with it. I had transitioned from meeting goals to experiencing another culture.
For me this is the what I am looking for while traveling, not a rush from destination to destination, but to become part of the environment, to experience another culture to become part of it.
Maybe I have taken the first step, I’ve noticed that the French seem to prioritize their life, not on their work and making money, but on enjoying the pleasures available.
*****
This is the end of the first installment in the ongoing series that details our introduction to river cruising on the European waterways, to our purchase and outfitting of our own boat for travel and living in Europe. If you are interested in being notified of future installment releases, Subscribe to this series in the sidebar on the right.
Thank you for sharing your journey.
Remembering this. Soo fun!!!