June 28, 2012
"Salut, mec, comment vas-tu?": Saillon - Gampel
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THIS WAS a day we let pass slowly. It was going to be our last with Karen, who has been wonderful company. We shall miss her.
Once more we rolled along empty roads beside the river. We rode through woods and sleepy, sun-hot villages. It must have been go-for-a-walk day in local schools for under-10s because we halted every few minutes to let another crocodile of strollers pass on the narrow path. I stretched out my hand for them to slap but, polite to the end, most reached out politely and shook hands formally and wished us good day.
The brighter kids showed themselves the leaders. They were the ones in front, the ones who took the more general interest, the ones who spotted we were there. The further down the line, the more surprised kids were to see three cyclists in their path. Their curiosity for the world didn't stretch beyond conversations with friends or simply staring at their feet.
The exception was the jack-the-lad at the back of one group who, far from wishing us a polite bonjour, profited from the safety of being hidden by friends and yelled "Salut, mec! Comment vas-tu?", which translates as "How you doing, bud" but, French being a polite language, caries a cheeky impoliteness that would have earned him a clip round the ear from a teacher.
It was all part of being 10: I'd have done the same.
"This is fascinating," Karen said as we crossed unannounced into the German-speaking region of Switzerland. "It's what fascinates me about Europe, that there are so many languages in such a small space."
It was in German, therefore, that the timetables and station signs were printed when we reached the station which Karen had chosen for her departure. She had originally planned to go her own way, up into northern Switzerland, after Geneva. But we have been getting on so well that none of us wanted to part. But part we had to and we got Karen on to the bright yellow bus that would take her over the mountain and into the next valley.
She cried as we said goodbye. Her bus made a loop in front of the station and she waved again as it passed. We last saw it as it zigzagged its way up the climb and then out of sight. One day we shall meet again. We certainly all hope so.
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