Nous sommes arrive... je pense

Nous sommes arrivé!

The first bit of the plan has come together. My journey across France alone with my trusty old Landrover has gone swimmingly well and I arrived on schedule in the Alps, closely followed by eleven other blokes with whom I will ski for the next week.

The strange thing, though, is that they all speak English. I mean, I know that is not strange really, but I have been so psyching myself up to have to survive in French that I have found myself thinking of French words this afternoon even though I don’t need to. Moreover, I have been doing the talking to the French people, despite the fact that the last time I practiced was over twenty years ago.

I don’t say this to give the impression that I am anywhere near fluent. All the people I have spoken to know I am English, and two days ago most of them replied to me in English. Yesterday, though, no-one did. I lay in bed last night and realised I had conducted the whole day in a foreign language. And today I find that I am not embarrassed to talk my school-boy French in front of friends.

Being among people fluent in a different language, even for a day, has changed me. Perhaps just a little, but it has changed me.

Years ago I invited Chris Bowater to lead an event for me in Durham. We gave him tea beforehand chez nous, and I remember him saying over the dinner table, “if you want to grow in a spiritual gift then you should hang around people who use that gift well.” It’s the same thing really. If you want to enjoy rugby hand around rugby fans, to speak French hang around French speakers, to be holy hang around truly holy people.

Perhaps in matters spiritual we will always speak with an accent, or walk with a limp, but that doesn’t mean we can’t learn. And in learning we find ourselves in some beautiful places. Here’s a picture of Big Mandy (as the Landrover is called) with the view I shall wake up to tomorrow morning.