I had something else entirely planned for today but thought it appropriate to share something with you instead. One of the things that I have always tried to do consciously here was to share the good along with the “bad”about my life in Provence. This post will be leaning towards the latter, possibly, so if that is not your cup of tea I understand and will look forward to seeing you at the beginning of next week…
To say that I have a temper, well…it isn’t an understatement but it isn’t something that defines me either. Not these days…although when I was younger I used to point to the color of my hair in explanation. Such a redhead. But if you do push me over a certain line on certain subjects, I will explode.
When you live in a big city such as Paris or New York, there is always a cushion of anonymity in your daily interactions. Even in Arles, there is such an enormous influx of tourists that it took years for folks in our neighborhood to really pin us down. Not so here, in this tiny village that is very proud of being “off the map.”
I have never lived before in such an environment, having grown up either in the country or smallish towns or big cities but a village is an entirely different animal, one where I will call out “Bless you” thinking that Remi has sneezed only for him to call up, “It wasn’t me!” Oops. “It takes a village…” Yes, it can, when everyone sees eye to eye. But when things devolve into petty differences, they can quickly escalate into disproportional arguments. Especially when you are the new kids in town.
We are extremely fortunate in that the neighbors en face or across from us are discreet. Mr. M, the retired coiffeur, is barely at home and is delightful when he is. The other house that overlooks our courtyard is lived in by an elderly man and his son, who, since they don’t have a landline, talks on his cell phone outside in order for the signal to pass. It echoes like a rocket chamber and we hear every word. We have been patient – save for on one of our first nights at this house when he sat on our front steps to talk – but it is tiresome.
Yesterday evening, after a nearly two hour long phone call spoken at high volume, Remi stuck his head out of our gate and politely asked if he could keep it down a bit. Fifteen minutes later, our bell rings and the young neighbor is back with his visiting twin brother. Remi is a Libra and a champion diplomat. I sensed already that the brothers were looking for trouble and so, confident in Remi and less so in my temper, I receded into the house as it was time to open up the shutters and windows after a long, hot day.
My instinct was right and I heard the brothers voices rising despite Remi’s insistently calm tone. He would later tell me that threats were involved, directly and indirectly, all because we had asked him to speak more quietly! But no, it wasn’t about that finally, not really. It was about the fact that we aren’t from here. For as I reached the top floor windows I heard one of them declare that they were pur race or pure blood of long date from this village, implying that they could do what they wanted.
Am I proud that I came downstairs at a run and shouting? No, I am not. But I can’t abide by such language, especially in a country which was controlled by Hitler not so very long ago. I made my point that while a foreigner I had every right to live here despite that the village had voted Front National in the past elections. “Je suis FN!” the twin brother responded, “I belong to the Front National!” I told him that I didn’t doubt it and then finally respected Remi’s heed for my swift return indoors. Amazingly to me, Remi was able to forge a verbal bridge and the brothers left him with a handshake. But I was still shaking with rage.
And yes, as Remi would later wisely say, a confrontation between us has been long in coming. The tension started on that night a year ago. Their family has never returned our “Bonjour” so I have stopped trying. There are others in the village that are cold to us, making it clear that we are unwelcome – and my strong reaction undoubtedly came off a recent series of rebuttals – but happily, there are many, many more that are kind – the amazing folks at our local garden being just one example. But still, last night’s interaction made me well aware that there is an undercurrent to keep in mind and a balance to be found. I doubt we will have any other such interlocutions with the twins as in the South people explode once and since we didn’t retreat, it will be dropped and we will politely ignore each other.
So, all of this is to express as I have said before, it isn’t always La Vie en Rose when one lives overseas as an expat, even in such a gloriously beautiful region as Provence. It is a learning process. And while I don’t regret sticking up for my (very American) ideals, I still have much to learn.
I have written a few other posts in this series, some having to do with the FN, some not.
If interested you can find them at:
http://lostinarles.blogspot.fr/2014/05/walking-blind.html
http://lostinarles.blogspot.fr/2014/03/contrasts-in-provence.html
and
http://lostinarles.blogspot.fr/2014/04/contrasts-in-provence-part-two.html
You are amazing, Bill. Thank you. Truly, truly, merci.
I got through my years in NYC by staying positive and being positive with people that I met no matter how challenging that was at times…It did make changes…in me and in others. Thank you for the reminder.
Namaste,
Heather
We do love it here! The house, the space, the land for the doggies, our garden, its hidden qualities. 🙂 Lots of good to focus on. 🙂
I didn’t realize France or in France, especially local village people, is not free of prejudice. Very sad.
Unfortunatley your neighbours come with the territory and you have no choice…except to move. Of course not really an option! I am constantly amazed at how self centered people can be while A: on their phones and B: in their cars. Seems that they figure it's their right to act anyway they choose. I try to be mindful of others and honestly dont want people to hear my private conversations. I have also had to struggle with my temper (coming from Irish blood!) but sometimes it just has to spill out! Bon chance with all of this. You have my sympathies.
Heather,you are one of the few writers who is actually open about the good and the bad to living overseas.. Thank you. We, of course have plenty of our own problems here in the States – at least we are honest about it.
I live right outside of Manhattan & I am in the City at least 3x – 4x a week. I still love this City even with all its craziness. However; over two years ago, the current Mayor (deBlasio) was elected by ONLY a 24% turnout. That's it. Since his election, crime is going up, the city has gotten dirtier, gang violence is up, violent crime is up. There is also a large increase of homeless people who need help & need help fast. He is doing nothing.
We are going back to the NYC of the 70's & 80's and I cannot go through that nightmare again. I moved to a nearby state then for my sanity & safety.
So, when people get ambivalent about politicians, refuse to do their research on who is running & refuse to vote, this is what you get. Essentially a politician that really no one wanted. Even our Governor who is in the same party as deBlasio, will not work with him or basically have anything to do with him.
My parents came from Europe as small children. They assimilated & my granparents had a very hard time. A lot of prejudice was shown them. . They persevered and did well & never regretted coming.
Heather, I do not like confrontation. But if I am pushed – I push back. So, I would have been down those stairs in a NY minute. You did the right things – you cannot let bullies be bullies.
I wish you all the best
Rosie
Things can change this much in only two years, that's all the time it took.
When looking for our home in Greece one of the conditions I imposed was 'distance from the neighbors' as many homes are built on spacious stretches of land right NEXT to at least one other home, sometimes two. I could envision the phone conversation or music playing or laughter or fighting, whatever the noise might be. We ended up with space and lovely neighbors but I can understand the situation you described so well. We have been welcomed in our village as Americans are few and far between here – a novelty, we are. I suspect there may be some who don't like the idea of newcomers to their area, but we have yet to meet them. I too will tell the story on our blog of both the good and bad of the ex -pat life. An interesting look at your life there.
Remy is indeed a diplomat, not that I wouldn't have done exactly as you Heather. That's the point isn't it though for all of us to try and live in peace, kindness and harmony all over the world.
xoxo
Karena
The Arts by Karena
This is a fantastic post Heather. Our upstairs neighbors are still angry with us for using the communal roof once over FOUR years ago. I hadn't realized how tiresome they were until they left for the summer. Being the outsider can be a challenging thing, but ultimately worth the trails and effort.
the FN is a frightening group, and we understand that it is gaining strength in the South. You know we are planning to live in France (at least for a while…) when I retire in 4 years…this is one of the things that frightens me. And Steve is Jewish. We will have to choose the town very very carefully. Good for you for standing up to those bullies. I'm sorry they are your immediate neighbors, that is sad.
I have to say, your encounter is not unique to a small village. I live in Montecito, California. A suburb of Santa Barbara. Our next door neighbor is the same way, cell phone conversations near our bedroom window, at full volume. We try to be patient but seriously, it's just bad manners.People are people wherever you go. I think you needed to express yourself, and now the know you aren't a pushover. Walk tall.