Train to Rouen

 

The train to Rouen was crowded. Double-decked, high-speed, we made just two or three stops before we reached our destination: Giverny.

We’d mis-timed our morning. The metro took longer to navigate than we’d imagined. We missed a train by minutes and then had a two-hour wait for the next one.

As we glided to a stop at Vernon-Giverny, it seemed the entire train of passengers disembarked and began searching for transport to Monet’s gardens. Eventually we took our seats on one of three buses. We couldn’t quite believe the crowd.

Arriving at a packed car park, we took our picnic lunch into a field and enjoyed the sunshine for half an hour before heading towards the gardens. There, we were confronted with a serpentine line disappearing round a corner. Inching forward, we began to doubt. Would we get in? Was it worth the wait and the crowds? We’d made such an effort to get here.

Being in Paris on France’s long, VE-Day and Ascension Day holiday, we had met with hordes of visitors at all the sites we’d visited. But we hadn’t been prepared for the Disneyland-esque mob at Giverny.

Realising we had a long, two-hour wait, just to see the waterlilies and iconic bridge so often depicted in Monet’s paintings, we gave up, left the line and wandered into the village. Quaint, charming, and quiet. We slipped into the former school building, where a cartoonist and his partner, who specialised in animation, were holding an exhibition. Francois Guibet: look him up on Facebook. He’s got buckets of talent, but he and his partner sat alone, chatting quietly, as we watched their animation. There was a QR code for any who wanted to support him. We still use euros.

Later, sitting on a bench in the sun while Don lingered inside, it struck me as sad and almost surreal that these living artists are struggling to survive and pursue their art, while the world pays money to walk around a dead painter’s garden. (On the return train to Paris, we learned that the water lilies were not yet out, anyway.)

It is so easy to get our values wrong. Easy to run with the crowd, to celebrate those who often also lived in penury in their lifetimes, unaware that one day their work would be valued. Van Gogh, for instance, whose despair caused him to end his life. But while our attention is focused on what went before, we miss what is going on now.

Lord, may I live this day with my senses alive, willing to change course as you guide me. May I not be so focused on the highly-acclaimed dead that I miss out on the obscure living. Give me understanding, Lord, and a correct balance in my scale of values.

Mostly, Lord, I am so overwhelmed by the beauty of your world, by the incredible talent and creativity you have poured into your people, and grateful to you. So grateful to be alive, and to be your child.