020908 - Lille, France

020908 – Lille, France

Having slept in till about 10AM, I woke to Justine and Adelaide bumping around the kitchen and living area. We had been planning to go to the war memorial at Fromelles and then possibly to Begium via Justine's parents house. There was also talk of going to her grand-parents farm for a little bit in the afternoon.

Breakfast was in the form of crepe's and juice, both girls laughing at my laboured learning how to eat them “properly”.
Both the dinner last night and the breakfast this morning highlighted the use of addatives as God had originally intended. In Australia, we use salt and sugar by the bucket in order to introduce a desirable flavour to a meal, usually measured out with a small bucket.
The night before, I had been informed that the dish comprised of Bone Marrow was best eaten with salt. After a small taste of the blande dish, I followed the directions of girls wiser than I am. My mind... it was blown.. With a gentle little bump of the salt shaker, I discovered a wide, rich, deep flavour. In almost a most inexplicable way, this meal conversed with me, allowing me to distinguish “that would not be enough”, “this amount of salt is just right” and “no more, that would be too much”.
Today, Adelaide said that I should put straight sugar on the crepe. Specific sugar that is known in this part of France. Once again, a little daring allowed the meal to speak to me. “this is the right amount, you have put on a little too much”. With a light, little french accent, my taste-buds were instructed. This is how food is meant to be adorned.

After an incredibly small and light breakfast, I found that nothing more was needed. In fact, I don't think I could have actually eaten any more. Thus, we made our preparations to leave for the day.

Being suitably smug with my digestion, the magical belt allowed us to get to the car mostly unworried before opening up the sky.

It took about an hour to find our way through the French motorways to the tiny town of Fromelles. The maps and GPS in my new iPhone were indespensible for the journey, though it was only 27 kilometres, Justine was unfamiliar with this part of the country-side. We spent the trip commenting on the scenery, Justine correcting my pitiful level of french and teaching me some new words. Finding ourselves in a town with a beautiful big church and the correct name by the road, we followed the signs to the Australian Memorial.

A quiet, grey sky welcomed us to a field with flags from two nations, the two friends flying with pride amongst scattered, broken monoliths. Scarred pieces of enemy bunkers. In the middle of a small inlet of french grass, a dozen shattered plates of concrete served as a foundation, a sharp, pained hillock for a great bronze statue of two Australian soldiers. One carrying another, “don't forget me, cobber”.
Walking about the visible accolade that this country honours her friends, we met some other Australians by a flooded bunker entrance. We all said quiet hellos between photographs to remember this place before the short drive to the wall of names.

Entering across the loving manicured grass, between trees that stand as ageless guards, a monument rose before a long curved wall. In the middle, between the marble crosses submerged in the ground, Justine tooks some photos and we found the name Davies, R.F. Great Uncle Dick had been a Private in the 53rd. It was here, in this sanctuary amongst the beautiful french fields and with the stretching horizon, back into history, that a list of names ask us not to be forgotten.
Now grateful for the rain and a little solitude, I wrote in the visitors book with a walk the long way back to the car. I thanked Justine again and we drove quietly back to Lille before a lunch that was a delicious memory of yesterday.

The afternoon was delightfully busy, I'd already seperated the things that needed to be posted back to Australia. When we got back to her home, I met Adelaide's boyfriend, but was not formaly introduced. Lunch consisted of what was left from yesterday, which was even more delicious and very filling when combined with the yoghurt we had bought.
Once lunch was completed, I made battle with the Internet to try and call Jenny. This was met with a mixture of success and frustration, having to call mobiles and land-lines. Having to settle with a compromise, the conversation was cut-off mid-sentence and Justine pointed out that we would be late for the post-office if we didn't leave soon. About 10 minutes later, Jenny called my mobile so that we could say goodbyes. I am desperately hoping that the free WiFi internet in Spain is as good as I've been told, so that I can finally talk to her properly. Jenny's company has been especially missed in a place as wonderful as Lille. I would like nothing more than to be able to do this leg travelling with her.
After stuffing gifts and suveniers into some plastic bags alongside a pair of jeans and a jumper, we headed back to the car. The belt, once again satiated, gave us some relief before accompanying our trip to Justine's hometown with some light drizzle.

Waking up 20 minutes later from a snooze for the drive, Justine welcomed me into her family home.
WOW
I suppose it is of classical french design, big windows and a strange arrangement of interior doors. The house is over 100 years old, with a garden out the back to rival many parks, including a summer house, great trees and a pond. I was formally introduced to her brothers, one of whom I remember to be Alex, and her dog Maya. Tour and introductions completed, one brother remained on the couch, the other retreat upstairs while we struck out for the post-office. Walking through this charming little town, Justine pointed out some of the major features and the recent changes. The 30 minute stop in the post-office was successful, Justine translating and negotiating the terms while I compressed the two shopping bags worth of possessions into the moderately sized box (I would disagree that it was “Extra Large”, everything in France is somewhat.. Petit... compared to home).

Homeward bound, we snacked briefly in her kitchen on a delicious flat pastry called a “Grosse” or a “Quoisse” (I still struggle with the pronounciation) and instant coffee, while her brother made banana ice-cream for the family dinner tonight. We said our goodbyes and headed for Belgium.

The original plan had been to leave much earlier in the day and drive an our and a half into Belgium, to a city that I will have to find the name when I get a map. Considering the late hour, we skirted the border in a two just to the north of her home.
“Here, we are in France..”
“Now Belgium... now France again”
“This is Belgium.. can you tell the diffence?”
The level of activity was different in each half of the village, as school and shop times are not synchronised between the neighbouring nations. We were unable to find an open bar or Cafe, so simply drove around for about an hour before turning south.

The final plan for the day was to drive to her Grand-parents house and walk her hoarse to the near-by pony club. When passing again through her home town, my mystical weather-belt decided it had had enough for the day and allowed the skies to open.

“too much rain for the walk, we will go home”
This was a bit of a shame, it would have been nice to see a French farm and to be amongst some animals rather than the family dog, but it was getting late and I was still recovering from Africa and Asia-Minor.

At home, the three of us wandered into town to buy my tickets to visit Isabelle and her family. Adelaide grumbled that we took the long way, through the malls, but conceded that it was much better than walking along the streets. At the train station, we went past an automatic machine, then lined up to purchase in cash. Halfway through the line, I pointed out that if I paid cash to one of the girls, they could use their card to buy the ticket. Discussion and laughter later, Adelaide and Justine made battle with the Machine and I handed over the suitable notes.

After the walk back, I called Isabelle after several failed attempts and we made arrangements to meet in the evening. She had work all day, but assured me there would be a lot to do in Rouen and that the train station had promised to hold my backpack for the day. Logistics and planning out of the way, we made preparations for the night and I said farewell to Adelaide with kisses and demands that she bring her family to Australia. She had an exam in the morning, so would not be joining us for dinner and would have left before either of us woke up.

Wandering into town, we met Jennifer and Vanessa. Jennifer was a striking brunnette that is on Justine's horse-ball team, her father is Irish so she spoke english as well as Justine. Vanessa was taller with short red-blonde hair and assortment of peircings, she studied Physical Therapy with Jennifer at university. Not playing horse-ball, Vanessa still watched the game regularly and the three seemed to be firm friends. Vanessa spoke next to no english, complaining that she had an aweful teacher in high-school. I took the opportunity to try and follow the french conversation for the length of the dinner, Justine and Jennifer translating at intervals.
Having been fed on pasta and pizza, as well as trying a little of Jennifer's Tatare, we wandered around the centre of Lille. Having meandered in the correct general direction, we said a late goodnight at the Justine's door. Kisses and multiple invitations to Australia later, we made our seperate ways. It was quite late and I still had to sort some email before bed. We crept through the house, Adelaide's rooms were dark and quiet and we knew she had her oral exam sometime tomorrow.
Tomorrow would be a big day for everyone involved.