Vehicles, the New Hampshire Version

For the last week and a half I have been up in Moultonboro, New Hampshire, where my parents have a summer house.  It has been a really nice respite from the craze of packing in France, and from the dreaded cleaning up after a year of tenants in the house.  No one else in the world will ever love your stuff half as much as you do…

But that is all an aside.  After the lake activities, and just general relaxing that happens at this house, one of the things that we love is the outings.  Whereas in Aix-en-Provence there was hardly any issue with having no car, here you would be hard-pressed not to have some sort of regular ride.  The distances are so great and there is no such thing as a sidewalk around here. 

So what do you see on the roads?  Well, it is at the same time totally different from what we saw in Aix-en-Provence and not that dissimilar. 

The only place where you will see pedestrians is in the several-block stretch that counts as Main Street.  There are bright cones in the intersections reminding vehicles that pedestrians have the right of way.  And the crosswalks come at literally every corner. 

Next up, bikes.  Not so many, and only in the mountainous backroads where you need to swerve widely to avoid hitting them. 

Then, the REAL BIKES.  You got it, the motorcycles.  These are no small scooters, as in France.  These are big Harley’s, with large, American-sized riders on them.  And definitely no helmets.  This is New Hampshire after all, where they “live free or die.” (Really, live free and die.)

In terms of cars, there are some smaller vehicles, some vans, but more of the larger types like SUV’s.  Many of them will be covered in backroads dirt, many of them will be towing something behind them: a boat or boat trailer, a camping trailer, even farm equipment.  A surprising number of jeeps as well.

The trucks are pick-up, also pulling loads, many from earlier eras.  And there are cabs for sale on many a front lawn, as well as other various and sundry items looking for new homes. 

And finally there is lots of farm equipment.  Mowers, tractors and lots of other John Deere-type things that I might once have been able to name in a DK book read with Julian. 

So lots of motorcycles and lots of priority placed on farmed foods.  But also lots of immensity and lots of aged vehicles.  Again I am struck by how it is possible to feel comfortable in both environments, yet in neither feel a full part of the whole. 

Home Turf

Our first day back in North America. After some, but many fewer, travel adventures (including a taxi stand with no taxis, a teddy bear flying around the waiting area, and a boy unzipping the bags of other passengers while the baggage attendants complain about how the bags NEVER take this long) we arrived safely chez Dominguez. Ed travelled with the older boys through Iceland while I travelled with Noah through Toronto. Yes, you read it right… through Toronto. It was all I could do to not pick up the phone to make a collect call to any and all of you! But, sadly, I had no mobile phone, no Canadian money and no phone numbers that I remembered. So Noah and I longed for Lora Hill Park and the company of all our Norseman friends.
     Arriving back has been very comfortable. My parents’ house in Belmont is as familiar as when I grew up, and the New Hampshire house, where we will spend the next two weeks, is just a joy to live in. The lake, the loons, the little-or-no-pressure to do anything. All good reasons take a brief respite as we adjust to the time change and, more importantly, the culture shock.     
     I already miss France. Even on the airplane the only movie choices I wanted were the French ones. While Noah watched the same tv episode again and again and again, I watched Amelie, a French movie from the early 1990’s that struck me as bizarre when I originally watched it. I was thrilled. While the subtitles still helped, I could tune them out at will and still enjoy the movie. And I GOT the humour! I really treasured the movie and all of its quirks. The other movie I watched was a documentary on the Maitre d’Oeuvres de France, a prestigious award given only to the true artisans of patisserie each year after three days of competition. I was transfixed, not the least because I had eaten and observed many similar works of art/deliciousness.
      But the differences have hit us all in different ways. Last night, in a sleep-deprived delirium, Julian was noting the high levels of water in the toilets. (“Why do the Americans have to use SO much water?) Both he and Noah noted the shallow sinks, Julian because the water kept splashing up on him, Noah because he could not lean under the running faucet to drink, as they did at school. And we all have noted the increased humidity, and the chance for rain!
     This morning, when we awoke at four a.m., Ed noted after his run that those random dark blobs that he was so accustomed to seeing out of the corner of his eyes were no longer there. After we all regarded him with puzzled looks he continued. “You know, the poo on the sidewalks.” And then I went for my run. Two things struck me more than anything else. The first was the homes. If the shingled homes were instead covered with ochre-colored stucco, they could be called chateaux. The homes are much larger, each with a nicely manicured lawn. And everything around is just so much greener than arid Provence. It is a marked difference.
     The other thing that struck me was the street-cleaning. (I know, it seems silly and disconnected, but stick with me!) In Aix-en-Provence the streets were cleaned every day. This keeps the city tidy after the litter and, yup, dog poo. On my run I noted a city sign forbidding parking on that side of the street. Street cleaning happens once a month, on the fourth Thursday of the month.
      All of this got me to thinking. Whereas the French treasure things within their own spheres, such as fine foods, wines, good company and even high culture, the North Americans place a high value on their external environments. American like their space, and try to preserve some of the nature around them. Picking up after themselves, creating large areas of green space. Whereas in France, and Europe, the citizens are so far removed from the initial domestication of the land, that maybe there is less of a desire and less of an ability due to limited space issues to create an environmental movement. And even the environmental movement in France seemed to be more on a personal level than a village-wide level. Individuals could conserve water, electricity and gas, individuals could recycle.
      I guess what it comes down to is I would love to have a French home with French culture based in a North American society. All of the appreciation of the local living, in a greener, less crowded city.