Womenal
A delay in treatment allows me a taste of travel and four inspiring days in the company of exceptional women.
This is where the joy begins: With a woman. Everything that has happened over the past several days has been the result of women’s work, women’s companionship, and women’s creativity.
I begin with Frédérique.
I arrived in Bordeaux last Wednesday after an extraordinarily productive five-hour journey. Without the distractions of home, I had a long expanse of time to write without interruption. And unlike British trains, always full of drunken boys and men and people shouting into mobile phones, French trains are quiet. Even not in the quiet car! During all three of my journeys this past week, I heard nothing. By the time I arrived in Bordeaux, I had gone through my entire to-do list.
After disembarking at the Gare Sain-Jean, I walked with a light heart to my B&B.
The door of the B&B, in an alley in the old town, lacked signage. I wondered if I were in the right place until Frédérique appeared at the doorway in an apron. “Bienvenue!” she said. “I am just in the middle of making your gluten-free rice porridge for tomorrow morning! And homemade apple compote! Do you like compote?”
I was astonished. The French are generally uninterested in making any effort to accommodate dietary issues. “You’re in France,” I can hear them thinking when I ask for soy milk or gluten-free options. “You will eat cheese and bread and drink wine like the rest of us. If you want tempeh and vegetables and vegan cappuccinos, may I suggest you try California.”
But here was Frédérique, cooking for me! She carried my case up the narrow staircase. There are three rooms, each named for one of her grown daughters. Chambre Marine was clean, comfortable ,and cosy. Frédérique installed me and went back to cooking.
While I waited for my friend Elizabeth to finish work, I explored. My favorite thing to do when I land in a new place is to wander without a destination. The old town was stunning, the river wide and mud-churned, the streets full of bicyclists trying to kill me. There is a grand theatre, streets covered in hearts, and funky boutiques selling vintage vinyl.
It wasn’t long before I found myself in a bookstore. As I stood looking through books on the front tables, a young woman to my left picked up Covenant of Water. “Do you think this is good?” she asked her friend in English.
“Oh, it’s so good,” I said before I could stop myself. “I’m reading it right now.”
“Is it?” The two young women—one from Mexico, one from Poland—perked up and began asking questions. They were joined by another woman from Colombia. All three were studying in an Erasmus program.
“How do you like Bordeaux?”
All three answered at once. “We love it here!”
The Polish girl added, “I’m from Warsaw, and because it was destroyed in the war, it is hideous. Here, it is beautiful.”
“What are your favorite things to do in Bordeaux?”
“Walk! Everywhere! Just walk.”
I smiled. My favorite thing to do just about anywhere.
When they found out I was a writer they looked up my books online and peppered me with questions. I fell in love with these three young women, all so bright and intelligent and yes—liminal. Living between countries. Using English as a bridge to talk with each other. Curious and open.
We talked for forty-five minutes until my friend Elizbeth rang.
“I’m making friends at a bookstore!”
“Of course you are.”
I met Elizabeth and her writing retreat co-leader Monique at the house they had rented for their writers, all women from the United States. It was surreal to be hugging Elizabeth after so many years. We first met on a panel at the Association of Writers and Writing Programs (AWP) in Minneapolis in 2015. Since then I have read and admired her poetry and fiction, taught a class to her students at SUNY Plattsburgh, and come to treasure her as a friend. When she wrote to say she was running a writing retreat in Bordeaux and to ask me to teach a workshop for her writers, I was honored.
Elizabeth, Monique, and I spent the evening eating galettes and talking about writing and books and being a human. All the things I rarely get to do with anyone in person these days. The following morning, I taught a workshop focused on ekphrastic writing, using Archibald Motley’s “Night Life” as inspiration. It was a joy to fully inhabit my professional writing teacher/writer self, like slipping on a familiar skin. More than a skin. My writer soul. The women were imaginative, insightful, and engaged. Afterwards, I enjoyed hearing about their lives and writing and work. One of them works as a medical researcher, and offered to help me find specialists and trials in the US. I felt destined to meet her.
After lunch, we piled into two cars to head to Saint-Emilion. Under the gold of an autumn sun, we walked down rows of 95-year-old grapevines at an organic winery that has been in the same family for eleven generations. Eleven generations. Roses used to be planted at the end of each row, because they show mildew before the vines do, and it allows the vintners to know when to harvest.
Confession: I tasted the wine. Even though I don’t drink alcohol anymore so as not to aggravate the cancer. I was in Bordeaux. I figured it was de rigueur. I would be insulting local culture by abstaining.
Also, I just wanted to. I took a few careful sips of each. My favorite was the flowery Baies de Bernateau, Saint-Emilion. It filled up my senses, to quote John Denver. I have no regrets.
The best part of the vineyard tour and exploration of the village of Saint-Emilion was our driver and guide, Vincent, a tiny doll-sized man, with the skinny arms and legs of a boy. He was a nonstop and vivacious storyteller who made the three of us in his car laugh all the way back to Bordeaux. I would offer you more details, but it’s better if you can see me act out all his gestures and expressions. Better yet, go see Vincent yourself. I have his details for anyone who wants them!
Upon our return to Bordeaux, we all ate together at a Taiwanese restaurant with two items on the menu, one with meat and one that was a (delicious and vegan) “surprise.” I was sad to leave the women at the end of the evening, while also excited by my next stop: the FAWCO regional conference in Paris.
I included a description of FAWCO and its mission in my previous post, but for those of you brand-new to Liminal, here it is again, from FAWCO’s website, https://www.fawco.org/about.
“Founded in 1931, FAWCO is an international network of independent volunteer clubs and associations comprising 59 member Clubs in 29 countries worldwide. FAWCO serves as a resource and a voice for its members; seeks to improve the lives of women and girls worldwide, especially in the areas of human rights, health, education and the environment; advocates for the rights of US citizens overseas; contributes to the global community through its Teams and The FAWCO Foundation, which provides Development Grants and Education Awards. The organization is a global women’s NGO (non-governmental organization), and since 1997, FAWCO has held special consultative status with the UN Economic and Social Council.”
The organization published an interview with me in its Inspiring Women magazine (https://www.yumpu.com/en/document/read/68610784/inspiring-women-women-and-democracy-february-1-2024? on page 75)
and contacted me when it was putting together a panel of authors for the conference. I was delighted, but feared that I would have to cancel if I needed to start chemo. Which I thought I had to begin last week. When my oncologist told me they were delaying treatment, I was elated, because I could go be a real person, a professional writer person, for a few days.
It felt like getting out of jail.
The conference was full of highlights. Melva LaJoy Legrand, CEO of JaJoy Plans, gave a riveting talk on the importance and uses of journaling. Her story is not mine to tell, but she trusted us enough to share the most shattering moments of her life, and offer insight into how she put herself back together. She was poised, even regal, easily commanding the room.
A panel of young entrepreneurs talking about how they have created creative solutions to environmental issues gave me hope that we can each find ways to work for change. And we should.
Kenyan activist and lawyer Peninah Nthenya Musyimi described how she created Safe Spaces, a project to empower girls living in the Nairobi slums where she grew up. She helped girls get scholarships to boarding schools, taught them life skills, and enrolled them in automechanics studies. It didn’t take long for the men who didn’t want to trust their cars to a girl to realize that they were excellent mechanics, even better than the men. “They do it in detail, like they do their makeup,” said Penina.
She has also created the Awesome Blossoms project to create organic vegetable farms in urban spaces, including schools. The vertical farms she helps to create have alleviated malnutrition and food insecurity, and have helped women make money by selling the vegetables. This makes them less dependent on their husbands, which intriguingly has reduced rates of domestic violence. If you’re interested in reading more and perhaps supporting Peninah’s work, you can do that here:
https://safespaces-nairobi.com/
When Pamela Perraud and Sallie Chaballier talked about their work with the UN on gender equality, I was so fired up I wanted to volunteer on the spot (the only reason I didn’t was that I couldn’t find them later). At the current rate of change, it will take the planet at least 286 years to close the gender gap. It was sobering to hear that gender equality has not been achieved in a single country. Not one.
At the start of the conference, a speaker enjoined us to remain present. “The present is all we have.” Which naturally had a specific personal meaning for me. But for once, being present was not difficult. In Bordeaux among writers, and there in the diverse group of women from countries all over the world, I was as present as I have ever been.
Every woman I spoke to—and I spoke to many!—was doing something interesting with her life. Every woman was living in a country far from where she was born. Every woman was connecting with others. Many had overcome significant grief or trauma.
Every woman in the room was liminal.
Our panel of six authors was the last to speak. It went well, if I am to judge by how many people approached me afterwards either to tell me they had already read and loved one of my books or to tell me they want to read my books. Several people also offered me cancer resources. That night at dinner I received invitations to speak in both Spain and Belgium. I also had the opportunity to talk with even more women. I couldn’t believe I got to be there, listening to these remarkable women and feeling acknowledged by them.
I felt I was drinking from a cold, clear well. That I was being nourished. Invigorated. Motivated. I had the giddy feeling of having gotten away with something.
And I have. I have gotten away with acting like a person without cancer for four whole days. With starting to believe I can live my life despite it.
PS: I gave Frédérique a rave review on Booking.com.
It was so great catching up with you yesterday! I'm so glad you had these wonderful days. You really deserve them and more, of course. 💓