Yesterday I took a hike with a French organization here at Nice. We went up into the foothills, enjoyed our sparkling fall day, lots of conversation, had a very nice cold beer and maybe a fresh tart in the Tavern at the end of the trail. The thing about hiking – the French call it a “Randonnée” – is you tend to go single file up and down the trails, and with lots of breaks the group tends to shift and you end up talking with a good number of folks in a day of walking. Yesterday we had about 30 hikers and most of them were residents or citizens of France. Many were born here in France. They were kind enough to put up with my broken French with only a few sighs and eye rolls when I was unable to come up with the correct word or when I inflicted my poor pronunciation on them. Kindness and forbearance were at work.
A brief word about our hiking group: formed by a cadre of women volunteers more than 50 years ago, AVF is a network of groups across France designed to help newcomers integrate successfully into life in a new town. The Nice chapter boasts 600 members. Almost all of the people who belong here are French or at least strong French speakers. I was somewhat intimidated to join this group but I have to say after 5 hikes and other activities I’m getting to know some of them. Certainly, language is a barrier on my part as a poor speaker of French, but people have accommodated me and taking the trouble to get to know me a little bit. I think we’re all more comfortable now and the main glue in this relationship is that we all have a shared love of hiking the mountains and a sense of humor. In a tavern yesterday one of them speculated to the group that I wouldn’t have a tart unless I could have a large bowl of ice cream on top and I immediately objected that that was not true, I would want two bowls. They were kind enough to laugh at my rather lame comment, but I’ll take what I can get. And I can see my French improving.
One notable thing about my time in France is the lack have other Americans. I know half a dozen people who planned to visit me in my first year in nice and none of them have made it over here. The big reason of course is COVID-19 and the fact that France is closed to outsiders from countries where the people are not managing the disease very well. That means not only my friends can’t come over but the usual stream of Americans on holiday, like many of the mountain rivers we crossed this weekend, has almost completely dried up. The upshot is for many French people I’m the only American they have to ask about what’s happening back in the good old USA. The questions invariably involved the president and I have generally given them my stock answer, only half in jest, “Why the heck do you think I’m here in France?”
Of course I’m not really the only American in France or even in Nice – it just seems that way. As a result of the closed borders I miss my family greatly. They were supposed to come over here and I looked forward to introducing them to Nice in the South of France as I know it. There were also other friends of mine who had planned trips to Europe that would have included a stop for a few days at my apartment. Maybe after the ban gets lifted if they still remember who I am.
So no, I’m not really the only American in France or even in Nice, but sometimes it sure seems that way.
Jack MCLAUGHLIN
