Sunday, September 30, 2012

Life At The French Monastery

Motivated by a few days of peace in a beautiful setting, we searched out and found a real, working monastery in Brittany and planned an escape.  We didn't know what to expect but weren't too worried about it.  What can possibly go wrong in a monastery?  Too much quiet, perhaps?

I have so many different thoughts and themes running through my mind now that we've returned.  I will try to get them all into posts at some point.

French immersion was part of the experience.  Who would go to a french monastery in the middle of nowhere except french people.  Because of the low-cost of the trip (Euro 46 per day all meals included) and the lack of luxury, you can rule out a lot more people.

Out of everything that happened and everything that we experienced, the thing that stands out in my mind the most is the kindness and generosity of the people that we met.  We were the silly Americans who stumbled into the monastery from California.  They were mostly devout Catholics (some nuns and priests and an assorted Archbishop around too).  None of them had been to California and most of them had never been to the US.  I think many of them have never been to Paris.   They didn't seem to have the pre-conceived ideas that many French people seem to have about Americans.  Maybe they didn't like us at first, but we grew on them.

The first night at dinner, we were assigned to a table of 6.  We were the last to arrive so there were two seats left.  It quickly became clear that this would be our table for the entire stay and the seats we were in would remain our seats.  Little did we know that the cloth napkin that we had would be put into a little cloth envelope and safely stored with our table mate's napkins in a drawer marked #3 (our table).  Someone would fetch the stack of napkins before each meal and put them away at the end.  We even had a discussion about the best way to fold the napkin to get it to fit properly in the cloth envelope.  I guess this is part of the life at a monastery.

We were all very polite the first night but no one introduced themselves so we didn't know the other people's names.  If we saw them during the day, we would say hi and smile but not linger.

We each quickly found a place in our table's society.  One man was very knowledgeable about the area, so he told everyone about it.  One woman was absolutely sad and silent with her pill bottles at her place for each meal.  Another couple were joyous and talkative, but we couldn't understand much of what they were saying.  Everyone at the table was older than me.  So, my contribution was simple -- I cleared the table after each course.  The method was quickly made clear to me by one of the servers who yelled at me for not doing it right.  The plates and silver wear are cleared and all food is scraped into a bin.  (Compost I think).  There was a place for silver wear, a place for the plates, glasses etc.  So, I jumped up and down after every course.  I was also became the person who fetched more water and, eventually, wine.

That first night no one talked much and no one drank very much wine.  We were too polite.  Terry and I had packed a bottle of wine, just in case, so after dinner, we went up to our little monastery room and had another glass of wine together before bed.  No internet, no TV except French TV in the TV room.  We had our wine, spread out on one bed and read our books until bedtime. 

Our room was spartan.  Two single beds, rock hard, one at either end of the room with an armoire and a small desk in between.  One window which had shutters for privacy and darkness.   A bathroom with a small shower, a sink and a toilet. You bring your own soap and if you want sheets and towels you have to pay extra.  No maid service, if the trash needs to be taken out, you do it.  If you want the bed made, you make it. 

More to come from the monastery. 




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