I live in a small town that has seen a dramatic influx of Hispanic people in the last couple of decades, many of whom don’t speak English very well. I have a new found respect for them. Living in a place where you don’t speak the dominant language is really stressful. I see why they tend to stay together or seek out others who speak Spanish. I’ve heard stories about France, that people there are not very happy or accommodating when you don’t speak French. My two previous visits to this country were just to Paris, and I always did my best to open conversations with a French phrase, and then people were very welcoming. This time my experience has been different.
Yesterday I flew across the Pyrenees mountains from Barcelona to Bordeaux. There I rented a car, because there was no public transport where I was going. Two hours later, I made it to a bed and breakfast in the little village of Rouffingac, where this morning I visited a cave (about which more anon). The girl at the reception desk (who was very nice) explained that there wasn’t any place to get food around there, and I’d need to drive about 15km to find some. I asked if it would be OK there if I don’t speak French. She said, “Oh I believe everyone speaks at least a little bit of English.” OK, but it turns out that’s different than being willing to do so.
I drove through twisty roads and came to the village of Saint-Léon-sur-Vézere, which looked like it was out of the Middle Ages. I parked in a dirt lot where there other cars and walked to the restaurant. I saw a group of people sitting outside smoking, and the door was open. So I started to walk in. One of the women at the table shouted something at me, so I turned around and walked up to the group, who uniformly looked at me with disgust. I said, “Je suis de solé, mais je ne parle pas le français tres bien” (I’ve said that a few times today). She just kept looking at me and didn’t say anything. So I continued, “Parlez vous anglais?” She responded, “yes” full stop. So we proceeded to have a very tense conversation about the fact that I was from out of town, and the bed and breakfast recommended her very fine establishment for dinner. She asked if I wanted to make a reservation, which kind of confused me since I was already there and there were plenty of open seats. She said they open at 7 and I’d need to come back then. It was about 6:45, so I made the reservation and said I’d walk around the very pretty village for 15 minutes. She said OK, and the rest of the people at the table said something that made all the others laugh… and I walked to the parking lot and drove away. I hereby promise to be as kind and as accommodating as I can to the Spanish speaking people in my hometown from now on!
This morning I drove even further out into the French countryside to go to the Grotte de Ruffignac. This is a cave that was discovered only fairly recently to have ancient art etched and drawn on its walls. And it is one of the only places that lets you in to see the originals, because they haven’t been so degraded yet by human contact. You board an electric train and it takes you a kilometer down into the cave, stopping at several places to see some remarkable art from 12-14 thousand years ago. The guide spoke only French (of course), but for an extra Euro and a half, you could rent an old iPod Touch that had about ten sentences in English about what you’d see. I sought out some English speakers from Great Britain, who had been to see the cave about six years ago, and we did our best to explain to each other what we were seeing (I had read a good deal about it before coming). It’s called the cave of the hundred mammoths. Mammoths are curiously absent from most other cave art in Europe, but here they have them in spades. It’s so interesting to stand where someone stood tens of thousands of years ago, and look at what they drew. Why did they do it? It wasn’t out on display for everyone to see. You had to go a kilometer down into a cave to see it (and I assume they didn’t have an electric train!). We weren’t allowed to take pictures, presumably out of fear that flash photography would degrade the art over time and perhaps to avoid the clambering tourists trying to get the perfect shot. But google a few photos of the mammoths of Rouffignac. They’re really cool.
From there I went to the much more famous cave of Lascaux. Actually, I went to Lascaux IV, which is a facsimile of the cave. The original is shut down for visitors now. Back in the 50s or 60s, they let lots of people walk through and even smoke in the caves (these French seem to smoke a lot). My guide said that even the Prince of Andorra was denied visiting the original (I guess the Prince of Andorra is a pretty big deal??). But the facsimile was pretty cool. Strangely, they wouldn’t allow us to take pictures in there either. Are flashes going to harm the facsimile? Couldn’t you just make another facsimile?? I think the “no camera” rules are kind of like the “no phones on airplanes” rules now. It doesn’t really hurt anything, but it’s a nicer experience for others when you’re not allowed to use them!
Our guide also said that if a new cave is discovered in your back yard, the state would immediately take immanent domain and remove it from your ownership, and seal it up so as to preserve it as it is. That makes me wonder, “Preserve for what?” I understand that these are irreplaceable, but if no one ever gets to enjoy them, I’m not sure why we’re preserving them? At least an argument could be made to that effect. But again, the replica was cool. The measurements and configuration of each room were identical to the original, so you really did feel like you were in a cave. They didn’t make you squeeze through narrow passages, or drop down the 8 meter shaft to access the next room (which I appreciated), but otherwise the details were the same.
These were much older that Ruffignac, at least 21 thousand years ago, and quite possibly more. And also quite inaccessible. It wasn’t like these were people who said, “I want to make something that all my neighbors will see and think I’m a really good artist.” They crawled way back into a dark place with reindeer fat candles, slithered along on their bellies to get into a bigger room, and then made ladders to paint high up on the walls. Why? I guess because it was really beautiful and a way to express themselves. I don’t see how you could assign any motive to them other than what you attribute to artists today: they wanted to create. In short, they were like us. 25k years ago. It’s sometimes hard for me to work myself into the world of my great grandparents and think what life was like, what they felt, what they valued. Well here are the works of my thousand-great grandparents, and those people don’t seem all that different.
If we can bridge that cultural divide, just maybe we can be nicer to people in our own day and cities who don’t speak our language??