L'aviron

As readers of this blog know, for the past four months Ruth and I have been living in the Normandy region of France. In an effort to try and get integrated into a new culture and city, we sought out the boathouse here in Rouen and signed up to become members of le Club Nautique et Athlétique de Rouen. Believe it or not we actually have been spending our weekends rowing on the Seine River. The view has been spectacular and I only wish I could say as much for the other members of the boat.



It's a rather hodge-podge collection of first-time Frenchmen with an unfortunate fondness for rushing the slide and varying the timing of the catch according to their fancy. And as if shaking off the rust wasn't enough of a challenge for both Ruth and I, we now have to try and make sense of a whole new slew of French commands bellowed over the din of blades washing out left and right and not to mention the occasional collision of oars. Talk about poor sense of timing. Incroyable!



This being the case, they are a likeable enough group of fellows and the boathouse itself is an absolute gem. Some 160 years old and chalk full of character. It's quite a new perspective being back on the water, slipping along the banks of a quiet city where the spires of centuries-old cathedrals loom in the morning light. I dare say it inspires a powerful sort of remembering, with time and place adrift on a current that renders everything new and yet oddly familiar at the same time.



I'm myself quite glad to be back in rowing. It's quite a challenging sport, especially all these years later. I often find it difficult to reconcile the dedication I used to practice so many years prior with the casual incompetence of rec rowing. But I know it would be very difficult for me to return to a serious level of competition. I see the junior team here, which is said to be one of the top crews in France, and their dedication and training is truly impressive. So I find myself inhabiting a kind of middle-ground trying to appreciate the best of both worlds without getting too far lost in either.




Ruth has excelled admirably at the sport when you consider she still does not have a firm grasp on the language. But having rowed prior, she's picked up right where we left off. She even takes her turn coxing (steering) the boat, bellowing commands in broken French with the air of an old pro.



It's a fine group of people who've gone out of their way to include us in their little French slice of life. We are grateful and more than just a little tired from climbing out of bed early each Saturday and Sunday morning.