Wanderings in the French Countryside

Why are European trains so much nicer, faster than US trains? Taking the TGV (high-speed train) from Paris to Bordeaux, we whizzed by the countryside at a 180 MPH. Looking at the cars and trucks, they looked like turtles compared to our velocity. Each assigned seat had a laptop desk, Wi-Fi, electrical outlet, and a food car offered tasty options. My husband and I were celebrating his 70 birthday in Paris and then onto stay with Marja Liisa with whom I worked many years ago when we were at the same company.

My husband, as soon as he gets on a plane, a train can fall asleep. Usually, I have a book or phone in hand, but the French country side beckoned me to visit. Miles and miles of rolling fields now dormant sported huge white wind mobiles standing still like Moai statues guarding the land. What got my attention, though, were the small century old villages, some only with eight to ten honey-colored stone houses with thatched or clay roofs. Winter window boxes displayed evergreen with dashes of red ornaments completed the postcard view.

What would living there be like? What was their heating by a hearth? Where was the nearest school, library, grocery store? Church?

It reminded me of a book I received on another train ride when I was nineteen. I’d done a semester in Amsterdam and now was traveling with my roommate Sue on a Eurail pass, seeing the sights. Putting myself through school, I was tight on money and worked during the semester as a “bar meisje” (girl) at the student bar on the first floor of our dorm.

Unfortunately, while in Munich, I lost a good deal of it to a pickpocket. We boarded a train to go to Switzerland. In our train cabin, a young man in his early 30s greeted us warmly and heard my story of woe. Stating he wanted to give me a wonderful memory, he handed a book I still treasure to this day. Wandering by Herman Hesse. Written in 1919, when Hesse reclused in the small village of Montagnola, he wrote about a journey of self-discovery and introspection. It was such a gift and has been a balm for my soul all these years. Long out of print, you can find it online.

I googled his wording while on the train. He wrote:

“Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth… When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me!… Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent... Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.”

“The world has become lovelier. I am alone, and I don’t suffer from my loneliness. I don’t want life to be anything other than what it is.”

Daydreaming can be a tonic for our minds. On this day, wandering through the French countryside, I silently thanked my hero from another train.

December is when we fill our calendars with so many things to do. Present buying, card sending, pageant attending, present wrapping, cookie baking, party going… the list goes on. Perhaps in this very busy time of year, we should take a moment to wander. To remember what this is all about. When God looks at all this activity, what does he see? What would he wish for us? Let’s go for a walk, look at the trees, and let them speak to us as we ponder all these things in our heart.