Everybody is looking for his cat
I was in a full searching for my new article's blog. I felt in a day's picture, with an inevitable curious cat in the Ferrol streets. The title of the Cedric Klapisch's movie, year 1995, inspired me immediatly. I don't have seen the film, but I can't stop seeing these small hairballs. Or the good impression that everybody is looking for something here, that he ends fiding or not, to name a famous song dear to U2's band.
It begins on Monday, with for me the happiness to implement a schedule finally complete in the Andaina's college. I work again in a primary school's refectory. Immediately, the ambient could make fall Agnès or Corinne, the dear employed of the La Perrotière's school (Saint-Etienne). I enjoyed a calm moment to account : 120 children ! You can imagine the noise. Everybody is looking for his place and find it easily. Soup of vermicelli, purée, beef bourguignon at the menu. Everything is easy to swallow. For the crew, it's a plate's rush. I look at my collegues those faces fit to the job. And after 40 minutes of rush like a Formula One's race, come a psychology's session for the 10 unfortunates who, for a reason whichs belongs to the deepest of their existence, don't want to end their purée's spoon. Some minutes before, a little 6 year's girl, with a roguish look, was walking behind her classmates. She was holding proudly a plate full of apple parts. Delicately, with her left hand, she was giving the precious dessert to each invited to the banquet.
It begins on Monday, with for me the happiness to implement a schedule finally complete in the Andaina's college. I work again in a primary school's refectory. Immediately, the ambient could make fall Agnès or Corinne, the dear employed of the La Perrotière's school (Saint-Etienne). I enjoyed a calm moment to account : 120 children ! You can imagine the noise. Everybody is looking for his place and find it easily. Soup of vermicelli, purée, beef bourguignon at the menu. Everything is easy to swallow. For the crew, it's a plate's rush. I look at my collegues those faces fit to the job. And after 40 minutes of rush like a Formula One's race, come a psychology's session for the 10 unfortunates who, for a reason whichs belongs to the deepest of their existence, don't want to end their purée's spoon. Some minutes before, a little 6 year's girl, with a roguish look, was walking behind her classmates. She was holding proudly a plate full of apple parts. Delicately, with her left hand, she was giving the precious dessert to each invited to the banquet.
We could believe that all these girls are pretty. Unfortunately, I didn't have my new digital camera in my hands. Today again, in the train, I had the right to a visit of a new doll, dressed all in purple. They are so lovely. The mothers are particularly talented for the dressing of their small princesses. The boys are looking well also. That are the pictures of an everyday life that makes you smile. I will enjoy it soon to take more portraits.
In the absence of cats, which can often appear on my way, I was still looking for my language. I improve day after day my Galician's language understanding but I am not able yet to build a coherent sentence. I still try to strentghen my Spanish's level but I feel stand still at the same level. Anyway it's not cause by the absence of practice but I really need to write. The thesis translation is still waiting. I'm still struggling so much with the Spanish keyboard. In fact, I'm in full interrogation. Not on the trip, that is conducted quietly, especially as I really appreciate Galician people. I wonder how I can go further, not have to settle for what I already get. What can I bring to the projet, and how ? During the week, I use three languages (french, spanish, galician) and I know that italian and english are underlying in Alice, my roommate.
I give my tongue to the cat.
French is my mother tongue, so it cames naturally to me, without doubt. It's a beautiful language, difficult to learn for Spanish people, in spite of its latin origin, because of its phonetic. Here, fortunately, excepted the French classroom, I don't need it.
I'm in loved with Spanish language for a while, I have not discovered more beautiful language until this day. I love the writing, the pronunciation, the enunciation. My use is not quite natural, sometimes I'm stammering, some days, without knowing why. My actual level permits me to manage without any problem but I have absolutely to improve myself to get a fluider and richer speech, with less faults. I will have reached my goal. The bilingualism is still remaining, seven months before the end of the project, an illusion. I don't think I am able to reach it, just approach it. It would be necessary that I dedicate to it a good part of my energy...
In the absence of cats, which can often appear on my way, I was still looking for my language. I improve day after day my Galician's language understanding but I am not able yet to build a coherent sentence. I still try to strentghen my Spanish's level but I feel stand still at the same level. Anyway it's not cause by the absence of practice but I really need to write. The thesis translation is still waiting. I'm still struggling so much with the Spanish keyboard. In fact, I'm in full interrogation. Not on the trip, that is conducted quietly, especially as I really appreciate Galician people. I wonder how I can go further, not have to settle for what I already get. What can I bring to the projet, and how ? During the week, I use three languages (french, spanish, galician) and I know that italian and english are underlying in Alice, my roommate.
I give my tongue to the cat.
French is my mother tongue, so it cames naturally to me, without doubt. It's a beautiful language, difficult to learn for Spanish people, in spite of its latin origin, because of its phonetic. Here, fortunately, excepted the French classroom, I don't need it.
I'm in loved with Spanish language for a while, I have not discovered more beautiful language until this day. I love the writing, the pronunciation, the enunciation. My use is not quite natural, sometimes I'm stammering, some days, without knowing why. My actual level permits me to manage without any problem but I have absolutely to improve myself to get a fluider and richer speech, with less faults. I will have reached my goal. The bilingualism is still remaining, seven months before the end of the project, an illusion. I don't think I am able to reach it, just approach it. It would be necessary that I dedicate to it a good part of my energy...
I'm discovering Galician language, I don't have the objective to have a perfect control of it. It would have interest just in an professional objective. Of course, if a good opportunity of job will be presented to me in Galicia after the EVS, I won't refuse it. There a nearer autonome communities, where Spanish language is the only official language (Asturias, Cantabria, Aragon). Who knows where I am going to land after if I will stay in Spain ? To land is a metaphor when my aversion for planes is known... By respect for the teachers and for the college's project, by curiosity and for the pleasure of learning, I will follow gradually. I am looking for my house, a own identity, above a character, a conscience, a personal story and a life story. What about a soulmate ? To adquire the Spanish nationality, I have to renounce to the French nationality. I can't, not today. I appreciate too much this abroad condition, ine the EVS conditions. Each day, I can bring the originality, keeping my Algerian roots still mysterious. And give up France, in spite of my attachment very affective for Spain, it's uproot myself. The EVS should permit me to choose definitively, at least in my mind. I want to live in Spain like a French guy. Even come back in France, I still would return, excepted a permanent disability, a crazy love or a civil war as in 1936-1939. Saint-Etienne will ever remain my home base, with my family ; but I am looking for my house in Spain for good. And excepted a undeniable professional opportunity, in spite of the well conducted of the project, it won't be in Galicia. I focuses on a autonome community near France, with Spanish language as the only one official language.
Ferrol has it a soul ?
Still on the land's hope's way, I walked on the Ferrol's streets last Saturday. The weather has changed of soul and colour, going from the azure blue of the week to the grey, getting darker. The temperature was similar : 61°F, still so pleasant. The grey's advantage and so the lack of sun, is the absence of back lighting unfortunate for the pictures. It was said that the visit of Ferrol would be stark as the weather. First, the city has to lug the height of the History behind it. For me, it was also the opportunity to back to the past. In a cold morning of December 1995, I was shocked by the monument of the "Valle de los Caidos" (Valley of the Fallen), near from Madrid. The Caudillo, Francisco Franco Bahamonde, Spain's dictator during 36 years (1939-1975), would be buried there. I have still got in my memory the enormous cross, 150 meters high, which dominates the place. 15 years later, then I was in the native's city of the dictator. I can remark the harbour very quickly arriving, with the military arsenal. The city has been chosen at the XVIIIth century, like Cartagena and Cádiz, to receive a military harbour.
The educational physics teacher in Andaina thinks the Spanish ferrocarril is still in the stone age. The train smell indeed the fuel oil, is difficultly available for people on armchair, emits an incredible noise, does neither display on the destination nor the next stops, doesn't seem to anything and circulates at 30 km/h... I am complaining like a French guy and at the same time I wouldn't change it for nothing in the world to a plane ! Who spares the rod and spoils the child as the proverb is saying. On board, the crew is dressed impeccable and controls systematically all the passengers. Impossible fraude. I have to say that there are a lot of tiny train stations, lost in the course of an harbour, an alley, with an incredible gateway to have access to the train, who stops during 30 seconds and leaves immediately. So we can go to see the controller to buy our tickets... who has always a friendly word for a faithful passenger. Little country's train could we think, excepted that it's the same on the international line in Portbou !
The train station is all yellow and gives a sympathetic tone at the beginning of the visit. It stops there. I didn't planned any way and Ferrol being nearly absent from the touristic guides (no star in the Green Michelin's Guide, one page in Le Routard), so I venture following my instinct. I met quickly the Spain Place, dominated by a pink building of the Caixa Galicia (we can meet banks everywhere excepted in the train). The place is with work in progress and is nearly empty of people. At the end of the way, an big avenue, without any direction indicated, nearly empty of people too in the middle of the afternoon. A lot of trip souvenirs come to me then : Tallinn, Puigcerda. The soul of this city seems to be evaporated. The avenues are large, cut in the billhook, the buildings are without personality, the shops are closed. I don't have any map in my pocket, so I am looking for an exit in this unsustainable geometry. There is a little musicians group repeating, composed by young and less young people. The whole seems to be incomplete. I am following the indication of the city center, thinking about find soul who lives. I meet the military arsenal, still defended by guards. The harbour's door is all open but the entry's prohibition is clearly written. There is an access bareer a little further. The sight is opening on the harbour, the old town, finally ! But the guard is looking at me in a doubtful way and I understand that I'm not welcome in this place. I will have to look further to open my mind. Finally, after two hours of austerity, I meet the leisure port, more lively. The tourism office informs me that there is a lot of visits to do... some kilometers far from Ferrol.
Le Routard writes : "It's not an ugly town, on the contrary." Ferrol has got a lot of strenghs, indeed. It's well protected from the ocean, nestle in the found of the ría. The hills around are giving desires for pedestrian escapades. Although the sun is missing, the city is globally calm, clean (excepted the area around the railway, real public discharge), treated well, designed well. The style monuments are numerous, the parks are clear, managed well, coloured although they are small. As in Betanzos, the romantism occurs with the young couples. All is smelling the serious, maybe too much. Something is really missing. Magdalena is a pedestrian zone, animated tkanks to the numerous shops but it's built like a grid ! I need to trick to find a coloured street, with decrepit houses. A cat is hidden always there, no necessary the one we are looking for. The first one crossed his way. The second one was nestled against a pile of dead leaves. And he gave a yell of fright... So it was not the good cat for me. I was fooled (Dar gato por liebre).
Betanzos, without the ocean near, very smaller, gave me the desire to come back there. And I will come back there. Betanzos is on Ferrol's road. I think that I will leave the train before the end of the line.
Ferrol has it a soul ?
Still on the land's hope's way, I walked on the Ferrol's streets last Saturday. The weather has changed of soul and colour, going from the azure blue of the week to the grey, getting darker. The temperature was similar : 61°F, still so pleasant. The grey's advantage and so the lack of sun, is the absence of back lighting unfortunate for the pictures. It was said that the visit of Ferrol would be stark as the weather. First, the city has to lug the height of the History behind it. For me, it was also the opportunity to back to the past. In a cold morning of December 1995, I was shocked by the monument of the "Valle de los Caidos" (Valley of the Fallen), near from Madrid. The Caudillo, Francisco Franco Bahamonde, Spain's dictator during 36 years (1939-1975), would be buried there. I have still got in my memory the enormous cross, 150 meters high, which dominates the place. 15 years later, then I was in the native's city of the dictator. I can remark the harbour very quickly arriving, with the military arsenal. The city has been chosen at the XVIIIth century, like Cartagena and Cádiz, to receive a military harbour.
The educational physics teacher in Andaina thinks the Spanish ferrocarril is still in the stone age. The train smell indeed the fuel oil, is difficultly available for people on armchair, emits an incredible noise, does neither display on the destination nor the next stops, doesn't seem to anything and circulates at 30 km/h... I am complaining like a French guy and at the same time I wouldn't change it for nothing in the world to a plane ! Who spares the rod and spoils the child as the proverb is saying. On board, the crew is dressed impeccable and controls systematically all the passengers. Impossible fraude. I have to say that there are a lot of tiny train stations, lost in the course of an harbour, an alley, with an incredible gateway to have access to the train, who stops during 30 seconds and leaves immediately. So we can go to see the controller to buy our tickets... who has always a friendly word for a faithful passenger. Little country's train could we think, excepted that it's the same on the international line in Portbou !
The train station is all yellow and gives a sympathetic tone at the beginning of the visit. It stops there. I didn't planned any way and Ferrol being nearly absent from the touristic guides (no star in the Green Michelin's Guide, one page in Le Routard), so I venture following my instinct. I met quickly the Spain Place, dominated by a pink building of the Caixa Galicia (we can meet banks everywhere excepted in the train). The place is with work in progress and is nearly empty of people. At the end of the way, an big avenue, without any direction indicated, nearly empty of people too in the middle of the afternoon. A lot of trip souvenirs come to me then : Tallinn, Puigcerda. The soul of this city seems to be evaporated. The avenues are large, cut in the billhook, the buildings are without personality, the shops are closed. I don't have any map in my pocket, so I am looking for an exit in this unsustainable geometry. There is a little musicians group repeating, composed by young and less young people. The whole seems to be incomplete. I am following the indication of the city center, thinking about find soul who lives. I meet the military arsenal, still defended by guards. The harbour's door is all open but the entry's prohibition is clearly written. There is an access bareer a little further. The sight is opening on the harbour, the old town, finally ! But the guard is looking at me in a doubtful way and I understand that I'm not welcome in this place. I will have to look further to open my mind. Finally, after two hours of austerity, I meet the leisure port, more lively. The tourism office informs me that there is a lot of visits to do... some kilometers far from Ferrol.
Le Routard writes : "It's not an ugly town, on the contrary." Ferrol has got a lot of strenghs, indeed. It's well protected from the ocean, nestle in the found of the ría. The hills around are giving desires for pedestrian escapades. Although the sun is missing, the city is globally calm, clean (excepted the area around the railway, real public discharge), treated well, designed well. The style monuments are numerous, the parks are clear, managed well, coloured although they are small. As in Betanzos, the romantism occurs with the young couples. All is smelling the serious, maybe too much. Something is really missing. Magdalena is a pedestrian zone, animated tkanks to the numerous shops but it's built like a grid ! I need to trick to find a coloured street, with decrepit houses. A cat is hidden always there, no necessary the one we are looking for. The first one crossed his way. The second one was nestled against a pile of dead leaves. And he gave a yell of fright... So it was not the good cat for me. I was fooled (Dar gato por liebre).
Betanzos, without the ocean near, very smaller, gave me the desire to come back there. And I will come back there. Betanzos is on Ferrol's road. I think that I will leave the train before the end of the line.
Sada, Gandario, Oleiros, Betanzos, Ferrol are relatively near from A Coruña. I chose to discover first the neighbourhoods before to go further. In some towns, I will deepen my visits coming back there, to visit parks and museums. Without denigrate these charming cities, the better is still to come : Vigo, Pontevedra, Ourense, Lugo, Oviedo, Gijón but especially Santiago de Compostela, Porto and maybe a return to Madrid and Andalusia with the opportunity of the intermediate seminary. I will see the Santiago's cathedral and I will see it again, later...
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