Le Quesnoy

Even a quick look around this town reveals the close connection it has to New Zealand. The main square is the Place de Cambridge and there is the Place des All Blacks, Rue Aotearoa and Rue Nouvelle-Zélande nearby.

There is always a warm welcome here for Kiwis from around the world and each Anzac Day brings back both old regulars and new faces. The NZ/Le Quesnoy Association and the town is very generous in hosting all New Zealanders to these commemorations each year.

Herb Farrant, President of the New Zealand Historic Military Society, has been leading tours to the Western Front for 10 years. He was generous enough to include us in his programme of talks and visits to cemeteries throughout Saturday and we learnt more about the history of the area and the town’s liberation by the Kiwis in November 1918 which, despite British orders to flatten whatever was in their path, was achieved without any loss of civilian lives.

Many of the New Zealand soldiers who died here were only a year or two older than our kids and Herb left us with a great sense of pride in those young men, who were so highly regarded for their resourcefulness, compassion and courage, and for the fact that they had come from the “uttermost ends of the earth” and had sacrificed themselves to save the lives of those whom they had never met.

While most of the kids were lucky enough to be taken ice-skating in the evening (and some went to Belgium for dinner!), we teachers were hosted at a dinner for about 150 people, NZ and French. What a great celebration and reunion of old friends this was, with plenty of laughter and singing, and the food was excellent.

The warmth of the French people in Le Quesnoy reflects what, for me, has been the best thing about our trip. From Nice to Avignon, St Rémy to La Rochelle, Le Quesnoy, and yes, even in Paris, everyone has been kind, helpful, patient, tolerant and friendly towards us, a little bemused by the scale of our journey, amused by the antics of the kids, amazed really that we should have attempted such a thing, but overall, more than anything else, honoured, that we have come from so far at such cost to see, experience and appreciate these people and their country.

La France, the pleasure was ours. À la prochaine!!

Final days…

Dedicating a whole day to Versailles was worthwhile. We arrived early enough to avoid the big queues but still ended up crammed in amongst the tour groups as we tried to navigate some of the 700 rooms of this vast and famous palace built to house Louis XIV’s court of 6,000 people. It was shuffle pace only going through the ‘Galerie des Glaces’ (Hall of Mirrors) and the King and Queen’s bedrooms, but even so, we couldn’t help marvelling at the immense wealth which created it all.

The gardens and grounds provided a bit more space to breathe and the rain held off long enough for us to have a good walk around and visit the pretty palace of Marie-Antoinette and the village of quaint little buildings she created in her gardens.

Back in Paris, our ‘last supper’ as a group went down well at a local restaurant where the kind waiters looked after us so patiently as we indulged in fondues of various sorts together with the prize-giving for the best participant in the Mission Impossible challenge won by Jesse.

The evening wound up with a concert on a boat on the Seine where the kids were the youngest there by some years. The band was the Great Lakes Swimmers from Canada and, when they eventually played, everyone, even us oldies, enjoyed the music. We didn’t quite get stuck in the Métro station when the train we were returning to the hotel on stopped running, but it was after midnight by the time we got ‘home’.

Paris in the rain…

Queueing up is inevitable in Paris if you want to see the most obvious sights. Unexciting at the best of times, in the cold wind and rain, it’s not much fun at all. What’s more, when it takes an hour and a half of this just to see a heap of old bones, you start to wonder if it’s worth it. But most seemed keen to experience the Catacombs, old quarries beneath the streets of Paris which were filled up with the bones from the cemeteries when they became overfull in the 1800s. At least it was a chance to get in out of the rain.

Afterwards we enjoyed the chance to warm up over a hot lunch at a typically Parisian café with red and gold- striped chairs and views of the street, thenwe were off again to the Montmartre area for a look at the Moulin Rouge and the Sacré-Cœur, and to rub shoulders with all the tourists at the Place de la Tertre  where artists paint your portrait for as much as they think you’re likely to pay, and tourist shops sell tacky souvenirs and ‘I LOVE PARIS’ t-shirts.

Montmartre is a quaint bohemian area with steep cobbled streets which aren’t much fun in the rain. We managed to have a look into the Café des Deux Moulins, where Amélie (in the film the Year 13s are studying) worked, but with a freezing wind howling into the front of the Sacré-Cœur, the only really happy people that afternoon were the umbrella salesmen.

Paris has been the place for everyone to choose a dinner to their own taste at a very reasonable price. The Rue Mouffetard/Place de la Contrescarpe area, where students, writers and poets have for years sat, eaten and debated the ways of the world, offers many little French restaurants where those who still wanted to could try ‘escargots’, ‘jambes de grenouilles’ (frogs’ legs) or other local delicacies.

Paris….

City of lights, city of love, city of rain, wind and hail!! Yes, we’ve been unlucky with the weather but it hasn’t stopped us for long. The views might be a bit grey and the wind bitingly cold, but a crêpe and hot chocolate soon improve the spirits.

Our hotel is 2 minutes from the local market and métro station, 3 minutes from the Séverin area packed with cafés and restaurants, and 5 minutes from Notre Dame. Kathy and I are in the roof up 168 winding stairs but it’s OK because we have the boys to carry our cases! With a very helpful owner, and free Wifi, laundry, kitchen and breakfast, it’s a good place to be.

It didn’t take us long to hit town when we arrived and within 5 minutes we were gawping at Notre Dame, its sheer size, its intricate carvings, its huge stained glass windows. After dinner was a cruise on the Seine while the sun set. The bridges and buildings were beautifully illuminated and we got our first look at the Eiffel Tower, lit up like some kind of dazzling jewel. We had to pinch ourselves to realise we were really in Paris.

Since then, it’s been the Eiffel Tower again, up the 689 stairs, the Eternal Flame at the overpass where Princess Diana died, the Arc de Triomphe from the top with a fantastic view of the 12 avenues which radiate out from the roundabout, the unbelievable traffic manœuvrings on that roundabout, the Champs Elysées in the wind and pouring rain, and, dare I say it, McDo there for lunch. Quelle horreur! Then the Louvre and, of course, the Mona Lisa (why?). Ollie reckons we climbed and descended 2349 steps on our first day here!

Today, the local market at Place Maubert where a stall-holder found out we were from NZ and decided his son (23 years, an injured rugby player but rich ((lies, we assume!!))) should marry Ashleigh; the Notre Dame Towers (one of my favourite things – up amongst the gargoyles seeing what they have been watching over for hundreds of years, and reading Victor Hugo’s descriptions of the city); the Pont de l’Archevêche covered in padlocks declaring couples’ love; dancing to the tunes of an accordionist; the Jewish Memorial; the Île St Louis with its classy buildings and chic shops where we fitted in some gauffres au chocolat and the manager got so excited to discover that we were from NZ that he started telling everyone in the restaurant; the Hôtel de Ville (immense town hall); the Marais area with the immaculate and elegant Place des Vosges, the oldest square in Paris; the Centre Pompidou; and, of course, shopping in the Forum des Halles (where will they fit all they have bought? I hope they still have enough money to pay the excess baggage.)

This is only two days. As you can see, we don’t sit around!

Dinner here has so far been in the Séverin, the party area of Paris since the 1400s which now has many touristy but cheap restaurants. Here we can work our way through a 3 course fixed menu for as little as 12 euros, including for example, escargots (which most of the group has braved by now), steak and chips, mousse au chocolat; or pizza, dessert and drink for 15 euros. A bit tacky, but still very good value.

Au revoir but not goodbye!

Even though we had fitted so much into the week, Sunday came around quickly, all too quickly for most. All the NZ kids, the French kids, and their parents, wished it had been longer. They were just getting to know each other, they said.

Everyone turned out at the station to see us off. We felt honoured. When the train doors closed, our kids howled. The tears flowed, and continued to, long after the train pulled out.

Why was our stay so successful, I now ask myself as we glide through fields of yellow mustard on our way to Paris? Was it because our kids did themselves proud? Or because the host families were SO warm, kind and generous? Or the teachers SO welcoming, interested, patient and empathic, so willing to give their time to us all? Was it because we tried so hard to speak French, not always successfully? Or because of Eric’s fantastic organisation in matching kids with families, and coming up with such a great programme?

This was the first time most of the families had hosted an overseas student, the first time any of them had ever met a New Zealander. We had come from so far, right around the world, as one Mum said, to see them. They felt honoured that we’d done so.

Thank you, Collège Jean Guiton, Lycée St Exupéry, Lycée d’Oriole, Éric, Brigitte, the two Oliviers, Stéphanie, Yannick, all the host parents, the ‘correspondants’ and friends for everything you did. We take with us memories we will treasure always and leave behind new friends. A piece of our hearts will remain forever in La Rochelle. À la prochaine!!

Last days in La Rochelle

Brigitte, who teaches Commerce at the Lycée d’Oriole that three of our ‘correspondants’ attend, is hoping to lead a school trip to New Zealand in March next year, so some of us were invited there on Friday morning for ‘un pot’ and a tour of the school. We were impressed with the art on the walls and how modern the school seemed. Our students particularly liked the classroom that was set us as a supermarket, complete with shelves of ‘food’ and a check-out.

The ‘pot’ involved all of us around a table in a meeting room with the Principal and Brigitte where we were offered huge platefuls of  ‘canapés’ which are little savoury bites with cheese, paté, prawns etc, followed by sweet treats in the form of small éclairs filled with caramel or chocolate. While the kids drank juice or fizzy water, the adults were all given a glass (or two) of Pineau des Charentes. This a popular local ‘aperitif’, a fortified wine made from grapes grown on the nearby Île de Ré, sweet, delicious and very alcoholic. This wasn’t even lunch – that came later! How the French manage to stay so slim is completely beyond me.

The kids were then taken to meet 60 of the lycéens (kids at the school) for whom they performed the haka, and with whom they spent a good part of the afternoon. In fact, Brigitte had to change her plans for the day’s activities because the kids were getting on so well and didn’t want to stop talking. The day seemed to be more of a success than anyone had expected and, happily, resulted in the Principal giving his sanction to Brigitte’s proposed trip.

That night the Collège hosted what we would call a ‘pot-luck dinner’ where all the families, and teachers, brought along something to eat and drink. The Principal and Deputy were both there, along with the teachers who were most involved with our stay. The kids did the haka and waiata again, for the parents, and speeches were made on both sides.

Kathy and I felt very proud of our kids. We were told over and over again by the Principal and the parents how wonderful they had been, how respectful, well-behaved and involved in everything – ‘the best group they had ever hosted’ said M. Rogeon, the Principal. We were plied with gifts, which seemed odd when it was we who were trying to thank them for being such marvellous hosts, for looking after us so well, and being so warm and welcoming. We could not have asked for better.

All sorts of things…

“Trempé” was a word everyone knew by the end of Tuesday. It means ‘soaked’, and that is what we were during and after our walking tour of the old part of La Rochelle. It poured, it blew and it was cold, but, despite the weather, it was still easy to see what an attractive city it is and how well they have managed to preserve the many beautiful buildings and cobbled streets.

The city was founded in the 10^thcentury and became an important harbour in the 12^th century. In some ways, it is similar to Nelson - about the same size, an important fishing port and a picturesque setting. It is great to see all the cycleways and pedestrianized areas keeping the cars out and the people in.

Wednesday’s outing to Futuroscope proved a great success. A bus took 35 of us (New Zealanders and some of their ‘correspondants’, teachers and helpers) to this futuristic theme park near Poitiers where we were entertained by rides, simulators, 3D, and even 4D films. But for some, the best part was the interaction between the French and Kiwi kids on the bus on the way home. By this time, it seemed, they were really starting to get to know each other.

 

 Although a bike ride to an island across a 3 kilometre long bridge into the wind with rain forecast seemed that it might be a bit too much of a challenge, Eric was determined to go ahead with it and he was certainly proved right. The cycle paths were fun and the afternoon turned out to be fine, if windy, which made the climb up the bridge tricky for some, especially those with short legs. Sadly, we ran out of time to go as far as intended, but, with its pretty beaches and little whitewashed houses, it was easy to see why the Île de Ré is such an attractive holiday destination for the rich and famous.

The Kiwis appeared determined to launch themselves into the freezing water, but were able to be convinced that they would have to return another time in warmer weather in order to make the most of what is available there. After a too brief stay, and the wind now behind us, we almost flew back to town and even managed to get home before the next shower.

Getting known in La Rochelle

A huge day in many ways. Kate got up at 5.30 am to be on time for school and our ‘official’ day didn’t end until nearly 8 pm! Packed full of new and fun experiences, most of the kids were buzzing for most of the day.

It began with a ‘reception’ at the Collège Jean Guiton, the school with whom we are mostly hosted. This school of 11 to 15 year olds is rugby mad and selects students on the basis of their involvement in the sport. It’s the first time they have hosted a group from New Zealand, or just about anywhere, and we were certainly made a fuss of. After being formally met by a  line-up of the Principal, Deputy Principal, English teacher and PE teacher (both involved in our week’s programme), we were welcomed with a breakfast (the second for most) with all the host students, and plied with croissants, pains au chocolat, fruit, juice and hot chocolates.

Then it was straight into classes for the younger ones who experienced a variety of subjects, while the older ones headed off by bus to the Lycée St Exupéry where they were impressed by the student common room complete with billiard table and a café, and later exuberant about what they had managed, or not, to understand in classes of Spanish, French literature and Maths.

Another bus trip back to the Collège and it was time for lunch in the school canteen, an immense room where the kids eat a three-course meal of, for example, salad, chicken and veges with a pottle of yogurt and fruit for dessert. We teachers ate in the staff ‘eating-room’, where we were given a carafe of red wine to demolish with our lunch. At least we weren’t expected to teach afterwards!

The afternoon’s cultural and sporting exchange started at the gymnasium where our students did themselves proud with their performance of the waiata and haka. All the senior management and a local journalist (we made it into the local paper the very next day) were there to watch and when the boys went into the crouch position the atmosphere was electric. Led by Hama, they then tried teaching it to the others, and the smiles on the faces of the French boys said it all.

Next was a session of rock-climbing on the very extensive climbing walls of the gym, followed by a rugby match and a game of tek (French baseball) out on the playing field. Given that the rugby was refereed by Sean’s 14 year old host brother who seemed to really enjoy using the whistle, it was obvious that the emphasis was on fun and in the spirit of friendship.

After another impromptu haka on the field when a boy who had missed out at the gym nearly went into apoplexy when he discovered what was going on, it was now 4.30 pm (when Collège finishes), but our day was not yet over.

We all headed into town for a 'glace' from an amazing range of delicious flavours, followed by an Open Day tour of the local theatre (all in French), interspersed with clips from a play, all performed by students from local schools where specialisation in theatre is an option during their last year. Other than that it was about ghosts, life, death and, of course, politics, it remained a bit of a mystery to most, but the building was very impressive with its two theatres and vast amount of equipment. To have this facility in a town the size of La Rochelle (about 100,000), shows the regard in which theatre is held here.

St Rémy to La Rochelle

What a feast for our last night in St Rémy – crêpes galore!! – savoury ones with ham, walnuts, spinach, courgettes, tomatoes, salami, cheese or the fromage chèvre (goat’s cheese) that many have taken a liking to, and sweet ones with chocolate, almonds, bananas, whipped cream, honey, ice cream or lemon, all washed down with a rich and milky ‘chocolat chaud’. Sitting outside the restaurant in a typically leafy and quaint St Rémy square was fun until the cool breeze drove us ‘home’ to pack.

It was hard to leave this pretty little town and the Hôtel du Soleil with its wisteria-covered patio, cooing doves and views of orange-tiled rooftops stretching up to the lumpy grey Alpilles mountains which van Gogh was so fond of painting.

Sunday was a loooooong day – 8am pick up from the hotel followed by three train trips totalling 7 hours. With stops in between, the journey took all day. Getting 17 people and their increasingly bulging cases on and off the trains three times was a bit of a challenge but our ‘chain gang’ approach proved quite successful in the end.

On the trains, Ollie’s iPad provided some popular entertainment – chess, Monopoly etc, but the closer we got to La Rochelle, the more the nerves set in, and Madame was much in demand with questions aimed at surviving the first night with a French family.

                                                             

We needn’t have worried though – the welcome was SO warm – our hosts had made themselves very obvious at the train station and soon everyone was off with their families for their first taste of total immersion.

Quarries, kayaks and castles

“Brilliant”, “spectacular”, “unique”, “amazing”, “you’ve got to see it to believe it” are all things the kids said when pushed to describe the Carrière des Lumières at Les Baux de Provence near St Rémy. All agreed that words cannot describe the experience. Suffice to say that two of them (at least) came out of the 30 minute show in tears, which shows just how good it was! Although when we left NZ some knew little, or nothing, about the lives of the two famous painters, Vincent van Gogh and Paul Gaugin, by the end of the trip, they will be quite the experts.

 Not many people in the world can claim to have kayaked under a 2,000 year old aqueduct. Built to carry water from Uzès to Nîmes for Roman baths, this massive structure is now a World Heritage site. Some kayaking skills were called for as we negotiated the rapids and eddies of the Gardon River, but everyone seemed to manage well, especially Madame and Jesse, although Dana and Abbey visited rather more sandbanks than the rest of us.

 Avignon is a wonderfully preserved medieval city with a 4 km long several metres high wall around the old town and many beautiful buildings of sand-coloured stone. We visited the immense Palais des Papes, the biggest Gothic palace in Europe, built for the Popes of Rome in the 14^th century, and the Pont d’Avignon, where Madame finally got to dance and sing the famous song – trouble was, she made everyone else do it too!

St Remy-de-Provence and around

What a feast for the eyes as well as the stomach! Every market stall, every shop window display, every meal is a lovingly-produced work of art.

We have been so warmly welcomed everywhere. All who encounter our group compliment us on how lovely the kids are. I don’t think they are used to such well-behaved, considerate and responsible young people. As well as this, we are Kiwis, and even better, we speak French. This all makes for a winning combination in the eyes of the locals, who are amazed and fascinated that we have come so far at such an expense and can speak to them in their language.

We have eaten prawns, pasta, pizza, crepes and giant strawberries, but no snails as yet. We put together a delicious picnic lunch from market ingredients, made friends with some French kids and did a haka for them even though they thought New Zealand was part of the United Kingdom.

We have visited a chocolate shop, a biscuit shop, a truffle shop, walked through magnificent Roman ruins, followed in the footsteps of Van Gogh admiring his paintings along the way, we have visited three completely different Provençale villages, climbed to lookouts, discovered bidets and swum in 14 degree water in the hotel swimming pool.

We are discovering as much about France and its people as we are about ourselves, that we have a place in this world, that even though we come from ‘le but du monde’, we can be proud of who we are and what we can do.

Monaco

The train to Monaco winds its way around and through steep cliffs and past rocky inlets where pink and orange buildings covered in bougainvillea cling tightly to the hillsides between craggy inlets of the clear blue Mediterranean. It’s quite tricky taking photos because no sooner do you get lined up than it all goes black and you’re into the next tunnel!

Monaco train station is a remarkable engineering feat built under ground inside enormous cliffs of rock. A few Lamborghinis and Ferraris later and you're in front of the Casino and ogling at the extraordinary wealth of others. Touristy, yes, fake, yes, totally  ostentatious all round really, but still fun to see and plenty of extremely beautiful and ornate buildings.

Meanwhile, back at the hostel, and some are learning about more than just the language!

Today was Alix’s 16^th birthday and she celebrated with a bit of shopping before we all went out to a local French restaurant for a 3 course fixed price meal of typical Niçoise food – Salade Niçoise, Daube au Boeuf followed by a Fraisier birthday cake – layers of sponge, strawberries, cream and custard, topped with plenty more whipped cream, candles and a sparkler! Even the waiters sang happy birthday in French of course!

Cannes and the beaches 

A bit of a slow start, not surprisingly, and we were off by train (another first for many) to Cannes. Sunny, warm, but nevertheless too cold for swimming, the weather did not deter some from paddling, but our picnic on the beach was definitely more relaxing.  

So, what was the most exciting thing in Cannes – the hotels where the stars stay during the Cannes Film Festival?, the huge luxury launches that crowd the harbour?  the red-carpeted steps where many a Hollywood star has posed for photos? No, the small carousel in the playground seemed to be the most popular!  

The challenge of full immersion (in the water, not the language) at Antibes on the way back was met by some hardy types, who not only braved the cold but also changing in public on a crowded beach. It was good that nearby entertainment provided plenty of diversion!

Our busy day was rounded off by a meal in the famous Cours Saleya where the rich and famous come to dine and watch the passers-by. Bravo to those who tried some new tastes! Jesse was over the moon to get his spoon into a Crème Brulée at last!

Friday 6th April was a Good Friday for our group. Finally, the day that we had all been looking forward to for so long had arrived and there we were at Nelson Airport resplendent in our “La Nouvelle-Zélande’ black jackets ready to take on the world and our 34 hour trip to France. Many of the hardworking parents were there to see us off and their colourful waves from the rooftop lookout would have made a great photo!

 Until you have flown half-way around the world, some of it during daylight hours, it is not easy to comprehend the size of that world, the expanse of empty land that there is and the sheer distance New Zealand is from just about anywhere.

Only one and a half hours to Auckland and Jesse managed to acquire a large red lipstick kiss from a rather gorgeous female bunny in a duty-free shop, then four hours to Melbourne where a cumbersome transit procedure by officious Ozzie officials had many of the kids body-scanned with a metal detector and Ms Sherwood drug-tested! Then we were back on the plane with less than an hour’s break for our next and longest leg.

But even a 14 hour flight can be endured if you use your time well. Jesse managed 3 films, 7 TV programmes and several games, one dinner, one breakfast and not much sleep – he didn’t have time!

Next, 4 hours in Dubai Airport with untold flash shops and loads of people from all over the world in a variety of different outfits mostly new to us, followed by the leg to Nice in a smaller and, thankfully, less-crowded plane where, it felt that at last we were getting there, since the flight attendants and most other people on the plane spoke French.

One young man, dressed in a full-length white ‘shirt’, took a particular interest in the kids, what they were doing and especially where they were from. He’s a radiologist, from Tunisia originally but now living in Switzerland. Although his parents, who live in Nice and were also on the plane, have no English whatsoever, he speaks French, Arabic, Italian and English. He could not believe that most students in NZ learn only English. The only place in NZ he had heard of was Auckland and the only people the All Blacks, and so was fascinated to learn that we have volcanos, ski resorts, the Abel Tasman and Maori. Even his father knew that we had lots of ‘moutons’ and was delighted by some of my photos of them!

The flight provided great views of desert, desert and more desert, and we were quite glad to leave behind Iraq and Baghdad airspace and move on to the mountains of eastern Turkey, and across Bosnia and Croatia, Italy and finally to Nice.

NICE is nice!: First impressions: lots of colourful buildings with cute little carved balconies, crowds of people parading the streets at 5pm, trams, having to look right before crossing, a huge mix of ethnic backgrounds amongst the people, friendly welcomes, and always, always a fascination for Kiwis and all things New Zealand.

The hoodies are catching much attention. We have already been complemented for our ‘beautiful’ jackets.

By the time we had caught the bus into town, made our way to the hostel (photo) and had a much-awaited shower, time was getting on and many were swaying on their feet. But were they allowed  to go to bed? No way! Here we were, finally in that wildly romantic and full of surprises country we had been looking forward to for so long. Exploration had to begin!

A quick walk to the beach involved mingling with the hundreds of people out ‘promenading’ the streets as tends to happen when you live in an apartment and want to get out for a while. The Mediterranean, whipped up by some wild winds, was looking stunning – wild frothy waves setting of the azure blue water – no wonder this whole coast is called La Cote d’Azur.
From there to the chateau on the hill, or what remains of it after several forays between the French and the Italians over ownership of this part of the country. But the climb up the hill took its toll on several amongst us, making them realise they had had neither enough food, drink, or sleep in the past 24 hours.

After a minor glitch where we parted company very briefly and unexpectedly with one of our members who ‘fell asleep’ while walking, some hot pizza and crepes went down nicely followed by some very frothy hot chocolates. The restaurateur was nothing short of a comedian. Loving his ability to speak a little English plus his realisation that he should be insisting on English from the kids, he delighted us with crazy talk, backchat, flamboyant gestures and a group photo. He is the one in the middle pulling a funny face. Turns out he comes from Le Quesnoy. The northerners' claim of super-friendliness is obviously true!