My life working as an au pair in France in 1979 was especially challenging because of the language barrier with the children. From the beginning, four-year-old Antoine was far more forgiving then his seven-year-old sister, Colette. She thought less of me because I didn’t speak French and no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much my French improved, she never fully accepted me as her nanny. The garden scene below from French Illusions: My Story as an American Au Pair in the Loire Valley, gives the reader a clear picture of this complicated relationship.
“Mid-morning, the children and I exited the Château de Montclair into the bright sunshine and followed a well-worn path to the garden. Wildflowers, interspersed with stinging nettles, vied for a place in the available light while beech trees swayed in the breeze. Fabien, the family dog, a shepherd mix with a happy-go-lucky attitude, led the way. Antoine and Colette followed close behind, laughing as they tagged each other back and forth.
Within minutes, the trail opened up into a clearing that encompassed a large garden encircled by a low stone enclosure.
“Venez par ici!” Colette said, signaling for us to enter through a primitive metal gate.
The dog tried to enter with us, but Antoine held him back. “Non, Fabien, t’as pas le droit d’entrer!” He made it clear this was a dog-free zone.
The well-organized garden included twenty rows of vegetables, berries and herbs. As we ambled along, the children took turns calling out their names in French. Back at home, my parents planted a garden every year, so I recognized most of the produce, but I had never seen an artichoke plant before. When Colette identified it, my eyes widened in wonder.
In one corner of the parcel, red grapes grew thick on an arbor, and in another corner, dahlias, asters and fragrant roses showed off their brilliant colors. So this was where Madame Dubois gathered flowers for her extravagant bouquets.
Near the garden sat an orchard filled with apple, pear, and peach trees, their branches heavy with ripened fruit. Just beyond, a rope swing hung on an ancient oak. Antoine and I ran to it, and he clambered aboard. I drew back his seat, grunting as I shoved him forward.
“Plus haut! Plus haut!” he yelled, chortling in delight as I pushed him ever higher, both of us taking pleasure in the moment.
I beckoned Colette with my hand and she moved closer, stopping to gather daisies along the way. Shoving her fist toward me, she spoke in French, her words brisk. “Pouvez-vous m’aider à faire un collier?”
I shrugged. “Je ne comprends pas,” I confessed, contrite since I didn’t understand what she was asking me.
Colette repeated her request, annoyed that I still didn’t understand and then she rolled her eyes, spun around and marched away.
I wish I could communicate with her. Shouting her name, I pointed to the swing, encouraging her to take a turn, but she didn’t respond and my throat tightened. She had already formed a negative opinion of me. This was going to be more difficult than I imagined.”
I would love to hear from my readers and I promise to reply to your comments. If you would like to learn more about my experiences as a nanny in France, you can purchase a copy of my book at Amazon.com. The audiobook is also available at Audible.com. (Photo from https://www.eyeofthedaygdc.com)
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