Adventures in French
We arrived at Juno Beach and the snowstorm I referred to in the last entry was behind us. All we faced here was 100km per hour winds (maybe not that intense, but close). The Juno Beach museum is staffed by Canadian university students, and our guide was Katya, a young Quebecoise woman who was very fluent in English and had a voice that rose above the noise of the wind. She helped the kids make some connections between the very young Canadian soldiers who landed on this beach in 1944, some to never return home to their mothers and fathers, and themselves as young Canadians who now have the good fortune to visit this place under much different circumstances.
Christeen went way out on the beach despite the fierce winds. Don't worry, she made it back.
[Image:Group with guide at Juno.jpg]
Our guide Katya explaining the unique architecture of the Juno Beach museum (not in photo).
We made a brief visit to the nearby Canadian World War II cemetery. Many of the soldiers buried here were only 18 or 19 years old, just a few years older than these kids.
Arriving in Bayeux, I never know what to expect with Madam Lefevre at the Family Home Youth Hostel. Madam does not speak English, not one word, nor do her assistants. The only English she seems to understand is, "Can I pay you now?". Then she makes the international sign for money (rubbing the fingers and thumb together), says "Qui, qui, qui!" and squeezes my cheek affectionately.
We arrived at the usual Family Home farmhouse on the outskirts of town to find another tour bus parked there and 36 seventeen and eighteen year old French kids wandering around, some standing outside and smoking. This is not a typical hostel building with lots of dorm rooms; it basically has three very large rooms, and we always occupy two (one for ladies and girls, one for men and boys). Needless to say, this caused a bit of worry for me. After a few minutes one of Madam’s assistants arrived and told me in French that we must go to the Family Home youth hostel in town. So Rens dutifully took us through the tiny Bayeux streets as close to the hostel as he could without getting into trouble with les gerndarmes as he did a few years ago I have heard. There I met Madam and with the assistance of Jialin and Caroline (India’s mom) we figured out which rooms she had booked for us and eventually got the kids settled into this charming little hostel and had dinner. It was a little frustrating to have been booked into the in-town hostel when we ALWAYS stay in the farmhouse, but I can adapt on the fly when I have to! Interesting side note: when I went to pay Madam on the second night after dinner, I went into the other dining room across the courtyard where a group of Belgian middle school students and their teachers had had dinner. Our kids (especially the ones who do well in French!) had befriended some of the Belgian kids and were having fun practicing their French while the Belgians (from Brussels) were practicing their English. Well it seems I had walked in on at the beginning of a little celebration the Belgian teachers were having for Madam. Madam quickly grabbed me a chair and introduced me as "Mon ami Canadien" and they insisted I sit down. Luckily most of the Belgian teachers spoke some English, and the Belgian doctor (they travel with their SCHOOL DOCTOR) was in fact from England. They explained it was Madam’s 70th birthday. I’m amazed she still runs these two hostels at 70 – she often seems quite stressed out. The next half hour was quite interesting as Madam told stories about her life. I was able to pull out a tiny bit of meaning from what she would say myself, and then the Doctor or the head teacher would whisper a brief explanation here and there to fill in the blanks. Madam’s father, who is 98, was one of the French soldiers on the frontlines when the Nazis rolled across the border. He was held as a prisoner for the rest of the war, and experienced all the horrible deprivations and tortures you would expect. Madam and her older brother are going on a journey next week to visit the place where their father was held (I didn’t quite get where) as she said they have always promised their father they would do this; it has just taken them a long time to prepare for it. Side note: all the Belgian teachers were enjoying their wine and Madam’s birthday champagne during my time at their table. The adults in our group enjoyed their table water and Nescafe.
The cozy dining room our group ate in at the Family Home.
Craig
We arrived at Juno Beach and the snowstorm I referred to in the last entry was behind us. All we faced here was 100km per hour winds (maybe not that intense, but close). The Juno Beach museum is staffed by Canadian university students, and our guide was Katya, a young Quebecoise woman who was very fluent in English and had a voice that rose above the noise of the wind. She helped the kids make some connections between the very young Canadian soldiers who landed on this beach in 1944, some to never return home to their mothers and fathers, and themselves as young Canadians who now have the good fortune to visit this place under much different circumstances.
Christeen went way out on the beach despite the fierce winds. Don't worry, she made it back.
[Image:Group with guide at Juno.jpg]
Our guide Katya explaining the unique architecture of the Juno Beach museum (not in photo).
We made a brief visit to the nearby Canadian World War II cemetery. Many of the soldiers buried here were only 18 or 19 years old, just a few years older than these kids.
Arriving in Bayeux, I never know what to expect with Madam Lefevre at the Family Home Youth Hostel. Madam does not speak English, not one word, nor do her assistants. The only English she seems to understand is, "Can I pay you now?". Then she makes the international sign for money (rubbing the fingers and thumb together), says "Qui, qui, qui!" and squeezes my cheek affectionately.
We arrived at the usual Family Home farmhouse on the outskirts of town to find another tour bus parked there and 36 seventeen and eighteen year old French kids wandering around, some standing outside and smoking. This is not a typical hostel building with lots of dorm rooms; it basically has three very large rooms, and we always occupy two (one for ladies and girls, one for men and boys). Needless to say, this caused a bit of worry for me. After a few minutes one of Madam’s assistants arrived and told me in French that we must go to the Family Home youth hostel in town. So Rens dutifully took us through the tiny Bayeux streets as close to the hostel as he could without getting into trouble with les gerndarmes as he did a few years ago I have heard. There I met Madam and with the assistance of Jialin and Caroline (India’s mom) we figured out which rooms she had booked for us and eventually got the kids settled into this charming little hostel and had dinner. It was a little frustrating to have been booked into the in-town hostel when we ALWAYS stay in the farmhouse, but I can adapt on the fly when I have to! Interesting side note: when I went to pay Madam on the second night after dinner, I went into the other dining room across the courtyard where a group of Belgian middle school students and their teachers had had dinner. Our kids (especially the ones who do well in French!) had befriended some of the Belgian kids and were having fun practicing their French while the Belgians (from Brussels) were practicing their English. Well it seems I had walked in on at the beginning of a little celebration the Belgian teachers were having for Madam. Madam quickly grabbed me a chair and introduced me as "Mon ami Canadien" and they insisted I sit down. Luckily most of the Belgian teachers spoke some English, and the Belgian doctor (they travel with their SCHOOL DOCTOR) was in fact from England. They explained it was Madam’s 70th birthday. I’m amazed she still runs these two hostels at 70 – she often seems quite stressed out. The next half hour was quite interesting as Madam told stories about her life. I was able to pull out a tiny bit of meaning from what she would say myself, and then the Doctor or the head teacher would whisper a brief explanation here and there to fill in the blanks. Madam’s father, who is 98, was one of the French soldiers on the frontlines when the Nazis rolled across the border. He was held as a prisoner for the rest of the war, and experienced all the horrible deprivations and tortures you would expect. Madam and her older brother are going on a journey next week to visit the place where their father was held (I didn’t quite get where) as she said they have always promised their father they would do this; it has just taken them a long time to prepare for it. Side note: all the Belgian teachers were enjoying their wine and Madam’s birthday champagne during my time at their table. The adults in our group enjoyed their table water and Nescafe.
The cozy dining room our group ate in at the Family Home.
Craig
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