This morning, the sun was out again. It was a beautiful day so I decided to skip my second coffee and go out for a walk. One evening before, I had seen a couple of girls sit on a wall by the castle which overlooked the side of the hill. I decided to go there this morning. The wall was a little higher than I had realised, but somehow I managed to hitch myself up and over, my legs dangling over the edge. I knew immediately it was a good decision. I felt the coolness of the moss covered stone on my legs and the palms of my hands, I felt the sun on my back, I looked out at the view.
The dark brown tiled roof of an old house with an overgrowing garden, perched between a sharp bend in the road… leading down the other side of the hill. Red and white apartment buildings and houses, interleaved by trees, bright green no doubt from the regular bouts of rain that spring has delivered so far. In the distance, more mountains. The day was so clear, that I could even see the shaded dips of the mountainside terrain, like the curve between the nose and cheeks on a person’s face. I was swept up in the sight, the sounds, the smell.
When I had seen the girls sitting in this exact spot a couple of days ago, I imagined immediately.., what would it have been like to grow up here? Maybe they were friends, and needed a secret place to chat about something personal. Maybe one of them said to the other – meet me at the castle garden after school. I had also seen two men that day, on the other side of the garden closer to the castle itself. A young man, and an older one. Boxing gloves and pads. The young man was punching hard, encouraged by the calls of his mentor. Was he learning how to protect himself, or maybe how to become “tough” so he can protect his future family one day? I imagined that the trainer said – meet me by the castle walls in the afternoon for your session.
These kinds of conversations, so familiar to everyone in the world, but yet so different depending on the context. In Australia, I would never have heard such a thing. We might say, meet at the park… or meet outside the shopping centre. The same thing, but yet so totally different. What if I had grown up with all of this history and beauty around me… would I appreciate it less than I do now? Or would I feel more connected to the ground and less flighty? It’s where my mind likes to go some days, especially when I am enjoying the sun by a medieval castle in the countryside of France.
There is history in the south east coast, but I feel that there is much more movement. It’s loud and noisy, there are people moving in and out… these days and historically. It’s well connected, to the land, to the sea and to the border of Italy. But in the countryside, it’s always seemed slower and quieter, and just a little more grounded. There are less tourists, and more residents. Less houses and more homes. I’m glad I got the chance to watch life go by here, rain or sun. It’s helped me to breathe a little easier.
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