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Because I usually am in Vino ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** In 2009, I gave up my studies as a medievalist and musician, left my home, my family, my life and moved to Provence in southern France for a guy. In 2012, I moved away from him to study wine. Today, I'm a vagabond sommelier working in Paris at one of the oldest and most famous restaurants in the world, struggling to find some purpose to what I deem the rest of my life. I'm still married and after 8 10 years, I'm still trying to fit-in with French life and culture and to understand why the French are the way they are. Because they're weird in a different way that I think Americans are weird. Perhaps it's me who's weird. |
| I live across the street from the Croix Rouge, aka the Red Cross, which in true Provence fashion is currently closed during the crisis. It's not totally surprising. My husband used to volunteer there a few years ago and he said it was poorly run by people who didn't really have the energy, the education, or the organizational skills to run a volunteer program. Their building is located in what used to be an old school, and if you don't know almost all the schools in France, especially ones that are inside town centers are enclosed by high stone walls to keep the children in and non-school personnel out. They look a little forbidding if you think about it. So anyway, inside this very thick wall is actually a space that used to house the public trash bins where the neighbourhood throws out their trash rather than leaving it on the street. Which was what people used to do when we first moved to Arles. So this little space was a welcome change. Back in October, my husband and I noticed that all of the trash bins had been ejected from the space and were lined up on the corner of the street. Someone was living in there. He had moved in with his dog and made a little home with a bed and some sort of hotplate to cook food on. Homeless abound in Arles. We have a large gypsy (called Roms because they are descendants of a Romani tribe) population that lives by the train station and are insufferably annoying. I try not to be biased against minority and underprivileged social groups, and I'll get into that complaint another time maybe. And because the economy here is crap, the education here is crap, and the people are pretty much without hope, there are plenty of people who have lost their homes due to drugs and most often to alcohol. Plus the weather is nice. It's Provence. It rarely drops below freezing, or even gets close to freezing. It's usually sunny and only the Mistral (strong winds from the north) is the biggest threat to getting through the day. So we weren't all that shocked to see someone living there. At first, I was kind of disturbed by it. The guy's dog was super aggressive if you got too close to their little hole and this space is right across the window from my office where I work out in skimpy clothing. The Red Cross actually noticed this once and thought it was my husband using the elliptical machine... clearly they all need glasses. But eventually I considered it and figured the guy wasn't harming anyone really. Who am I to deny some guy a bit of warmth and shelter and spot to create some sort of comfort for himself? My husband and I had an old, torn up down comforter that we were going to throw out and instead we washed it and gave it to him. Other people in the neighborhood were doing the same. Leaving food or pillows or clothes. The guy was going through the trash anyway. But the Red Cross- the people responsible for taking care of homeless and down-on-their-luck in town - did they try to help this guy out? No. Not even. The woman who runs the organisation here in Arles stamped outside several times a day to tell the guy he had to move. She complained and railed and whined and threatened and called the police. Eventually the guy was moved or moved on his own volition. I don't know which. And that space where the trash containers were now has a massive metal door on it that is locked firmly. The trash bins you might ask? Still on the street corner where they roll into the street and cause havoc to the parked cars every time the Mistral rolls into town (which is pretty much every other day). That's the Red Cross in Arles. So while it's sad, incredibly sad that they are closed, because the homeless here are not getting any assistance at all, and the people who used to go there for the food bank have nothing to eat, it's not surprising. I look out my window everyday at the building. I look over the walls and stare at their ambulance which hasn't moved once since I've been home. I watch the stray cats pace up and down the roof top and shadows from the trees move across the empty courtyard. I like to watch the cats. Sometimes I see a loose trash bin go rolling into my husband's car. |
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I think it's awesome that you're using that negative experience to get creative. It's hard not to just wallow when those things happen. I use a paper journal for most of my actual coping process too, but I do share bits and pieces on WDC as well.
Might try a short story a day instead. Stay safe. 
