Oh lah lah, a week in France: By Eleanor

 Sitting on my bed, drink in my hand and my cat wedged firmly between my laptop and lap.

 Home, sweet home.

 Last Thursday I hopped on a plane and flew off to Beziers, Southern France. I still get nervous at the rumbling, speeding plane as it finally lifts off at the front, the back following close behind. The houses, getting smaller and smaller until they look like ants and you find yourself surrounded by fluffy dreamlike clouds. Every now and then the plane dips, you hold your breath, yet the plane smoothly cruises ever onwards.

 Almost too soon and the plane prepares to land and with a bump and a screech, you have arrived at your destination. Bezier is calling. Hand in hand, we explore the land, with a terrible sense of navigation skills plus back to front driving rules equals an extended, hot, sans plomb fuelled drive to our home for the week.

 When we originally started planning our holiday, I made an assumption that lots of people would know English. I am not really sure why I made this assumption and boy has my thoughts changed since then. Lots of people we met spoke fluent French, and although they tried their best, simply did not understand English, same as I simply did not understand French. As a deaf person, I do not cope well with any kind of accent. I remember when I was young, at a theme park and this boy started talking to me and my brother. I couldn't understand a word. I remembering asking him to speak English please. He was completely 100% English, he just had a heavy Yorkshire accent.

That was my first experience with an 'accent' and conversations on that holiday always turned to my curiosity. I became anxious, it was difficult enough for me to understand my family and friends from Norfolk. What would I do if I met someone I couldn't understand? What if I said something stupid? Why did people always talk differently? I became angry, frustrated, I worried that I would always need my mum to interpret (repeat what people have said clearly so I could lip read her). I became very aware of what it looked like to have someone repeating everything that had been said, feeling sad, locked in and dare I say it, lonely.

 We met lots of French people on our travels and came across lots of French writing. My partner tried to teach me some French words but it was difficult to hear the different sounds to pronounce. What I hear, and what is actually said, are two very different things.

 We had an amazing week in France, and like all holidays, it went far too quickly. It was hot. Very hot.
 On the first day we went to cap' de Agde, which had a small beach, an aquarium and quaint cafés. It was a beautiful day, with great company. I had my first strawberry Mojito sans alcohol, with the shimmering, shining blue water stretching out as far as the eyes could see. It was also the first time my partner got red raw sunburn. Whilst I turned a healthy tanned version of myself.

 The next day we headed to Sete, mainly for an art gallery by Miro. I love art galleries. We did get lost trying to find it though, the theme of getting lost runs heavily during the week.

 The next day, was Sunday. Which is considered a rest day in France. And we considered it our rest day too. We went to a market in the morning in Bessan, and brought some amazing fresh strawberries, we also went to the bakery for fresh croissants (when in France!). I honestly could not go back to supermarket croissants now... it has to be fresh, simply amazing. It also gave us the chance to explore the local area. I encountered my first conversation with a French person who could speak good English. The problem was, I couldn't lip-read. The mouth movements were different, from her native language being French. It was interesting but similar emotions started creeping in.
Its not that I don't want to know what they are saying but it is painful. I've become somewhat of an expert at knowing when to smile, nod, murmur some sort of noise to allow them to think I understand what is going on. Asking someone to repeat something that you still won't understand, even after the fifth attempt, is an awkward and frustrating process for both sides. It is so difficult to explain to people that because I've heard them once before the first time, it doesn't mean I will always hear them the first time. Lip reading is and always will be my proudest achievement, but it is not magic. It does not allow me to instantly recognise every word.

It is like a jigsaw puzzle.
You pick a jigsaw (conversation starter) based on your mood, what you feel you can achieve (topic you know enough about), the number of pieces (number of people in the conversation), the size of the pieces (the other people in the conversation, their ability, can they speak clearly enough to lip read).
 This is good, because you are in control. Once you've had a go, you let someone else have a turn. The problem is, they have different tactics (ideas), they mess up your system, you no longer know what is being done (or said). It takes time for you to work out what they have done, the gaps they have filled (words they have said). And sometimes you don't always know every gap they have filled.
 It is a slow process, working together to piece the whole jigsaw together. You get there, and more often than not, there is still one piece missing. The connection doesn't feel as natural, as strong as others. Other people can walk into a room, say something in passing and make everyone laugh. The kind of connection you get from throwing words around.

The rest of the week was full of further exploring, including a visit to grotto clamouse (a cave). This visit really excited me because the brochure we found about this, was translated into English as well. It even commented on having access for deaf people. This was the first cave trip that I had ever been on that actually felt they prided themselves on equal communication. The first part was a video, it was spoken in French and had French subtitles at the bottom. It also had English subtitles at the top (yay!). We had explained that I was deaf when entering and they said I could have a copy of what was said during the tour (more surprised smiles) so I could read it. To be honest, it was full of technical jargon and even when reading it, it went completely over my head. The best part about exploring caves, is exploring caves. For me, I don't need any explanation or technical words, I want to see the beauty for myself. And it was beautiful. And I loved the opportunity to feel equal.

 Of course, as with all good holidays, it was soon time to go home. I loved my trip to France and will always remember never to make an assumption that all French people speak English. :)