Since I started traveling, I not only believe in fate, but trust it.
I believe that bad things are always followed by the good, and I believe that if you search for something you want then you will either find it, or find something better.
It’s not always easy to believe in things like that. Fish tacos have reminded me of this fact.
I tried to make them for my host family without lime, cilantro, or sour cream. I wouldn’t have attempted cooking at all, but it was a tradition that all WWOOfers create one meal inspired by where their from. When I proposed Mexican food and sweet potato fries, Lucy and Cedric nodded their heads, “The other Californians did that too,”
The whole meal was an imminent disaster which wouldn’t be served until 9 pm.
Mid-kitchen-bustle, Lucy walks in and asks me if she can help. I nervously mumbled something along the lines of “Yes- No. Maybe later.”
She looks at me blankly, but nods her head profusely.
When I realized she couldn’t understand I shook my head and said, “No, it’s fine. I got this”.
Lucy and Cedric have two little girls. One is three. The other is nine months. It took me a week in their home to realize that I was jealous of the two, because this was the first time in my life that I wasn’t treated as one of the kids.
Being left in the kitchen to cook for 6 people was something that only happened to adults.
Joule, Cedric’s friend, came in next. He had grayish tan skin, olive eyes, and clouds of hair on his head and either cheek. When he greeted me I felt each plume press against my own cheeks. He asked “Can I help you?”
I immediately replied no thank you.
There was only one noise as we sat down to eat– it was the disheartening sound lemon “crema” dripping into puddles on our plates.
“This dinner is very good.” Lucy said eventually. And the table agreed with head nods, and yeahs. My shoulders jerked forward in an uncontrollable shrug of shame.
Cedric’s friends sat on the right end of each bench, sandwiching the rest of us in like bookends.
Both men had low voices, hunched backs, young faces and laughed as if they heard something perverted. We sat outside so we wouldn’t wake up three year old Leonard and 9 month old Jane, but I internally laughed at never seeing Cedric’s most disheveled and youthful friends inside the house.
His other friends came through the doors in broad daylight with home cooked meals and babies in hand. It was apparent that these were not those type of friends.
It wasn’t cold but it was dark, and only light was an obnoxious and unnaturally yellow porch light that hung above Cedric’s head. All but him had faces like moon phases waxing and waning across the table. Sitting directly across from him, my face must have been full.
Estelle, the other WWOOFer, was the favored chef of the night. She put a round of Camembert in the microwave with brown sugar on top, and served the sweet and savory fondu with a loaf of bread.
My French companions recovered marvelously from my tacos after their long overdue consumption of bread, cheese, wine, and cigarettes.
The conversation had grown louder with more laughter when Lucy brought out a large leather box, “Once in there?”
“A tiny person” Cedric replied.
“Is it Leonard? No wonder she never wants to go to bed.”
I had guessed it was an instrument but by the size and shape of the box, I couldn’t tell which. Lucy unlatched the ends and pulled out a shiny black thing with a tiny piano on one end and what appeared to be typewriter keys on the other.
The music began and it all became clear to me. I was celebrating the last day of grape harvest on a vineyard in France. Unmarked green bottles of wine towered over a parade of wine glasses on the red picnic table. An ashtray was center to everything, spiked with a growing pile of cigarette butts. Leftover over baguette was still on the table, as well as hands that drummed to Lucy’s accordion and she played “La Vie en Rose” the wine glasses rang with each beat. Estella swayed. We sung. Joule played fetch with the dog using a wine cork.
If my faith was tottering that night, than life had extended a hand and set it firmly back into place.
I went to bed tired and happy, and excited for the days to come.
