When Over There Becomes Over Here

A violent storm focuses a change in perspective

As a newspaper reporter I tried to engage with international news. I wanted to be interested in wars, economic struggles, politics, weather emergencies and humanitarian crises halfway around the world from my comfortable home in Philadelphia. 

The soul was willing but the attention span was weak. Since the news in faraway places like Europe rarely touched anyone or anything close to me, I wasn’t all that interested.

Then I moved there.

After years of thumbing past the international news sections of the daily newspapers I read, I now find myself pausing to learn about even minor skirmishes in Europe. In a (failed) effort to wean myself away from mornings spent worrying about the latest MAGA horror in the US, I subscribed to 10 European news sources and several local weather apps.

It was in one of those newspapers that I first learned of the bomb cyclone barreling across the Atlantic on a direct course to the Brittany coast – exactly where we had rented a lovely vacation house just feet from the water. We were scheduled to check in the next day.

The news was vague enough that we weren’t overly concerned: High winds and rain are certainly not unusual in Brittany. Put on your rain gear and go do stuff anyway. We decided to keep the reservations in Concarneau, a beautiful seaside resort and fishing village on the southern end of Finistère (land’s end). It was overcast and gray when we arrived Tuesday afternoon, so everything was as it should be for this slice of western France.  

Bomb Cyclone Ciaran brewing in Concarneau, Brittany.

Our hosts were lovely and the apartment had a breathtaking view of the bay and the Celtic Sea. We walked around the cute squares, did some shopping (cheese and beer, natch), and settled in for a rainy evening. As the afternoon wore on, the sea became choppier. We had dinner, watched TV and went to bed.

When I woke at 5:30 a.m. I could see through the darkness waves breaching the seawall. Scrolling my French news and weather sites, I found more solid estimates: 160 km/h winds and 10-meter storm surges. I made the conversion (I’m still working on the metric thing): 100 mph winds and 30-foot surges. We were on the second floor of a house that fronted onto the churning sea. That meant the surge could come up to the living room window. 

We had to get out of there.

We made it home safely and sat out the storm in Rennes, losing just a small bird bath.

A weather emergency that wouldn’t have entered my consciousness was now right at my front door. Literally. I thought about that a lot while watching the winds die down the day after Storm Ciaran, realizing how much living in France has led to similar shifts in my awareness of politics, the World Wars, energy and water shortages, the humanitarian crises of immigrants, the growing provincialism in French politics, demonstrations, the environment.

Moving here has changed my perspective.

Possibly that’s because when you live beside constant reminders – like the heartbreaking memorial at the site where nearly 70 members of the French Resistance were executed by the Nazis – it’s easier for issues and events, even historic ones, to come to life. 

You see Ukraine flags hanging in France after all these months because people here still remember the last war in Europe. Our town has welcomed Ukrainian refugees because they know first hand what it is like to be without a home in the midst of destruction. 

The same goes with the environment. While many Americans deny climate change, Europe seems to be facing it head-on. I see it every day, as we meticulously separate recyclables, compost our food waste, carry glass bottles down the street to the receptacle and reuse all our bags. 

Complying with the anti-gaspillage (anti-waste) movement means being vigilant about not buying more than we can eat or keep fresh, and finishing all the leftovers. In addition to the anti-gaspi food market, there are at least 20 friperies (used clothing stores) just in center city. The French government subsidizes appliance repairs to help prevent over-consumption and waste. And talk about chipping in: When we first moved here we attended a festival, with food and music, and were stunned to see a dishwashing station. You ate your food on real plates, then had to wash your own dirty dishes. 

I realize that my come-to-Jesus transformation makes me sound self-centered. That’s because, essentially, I was. Sure I gave to charity, knew at least the fundamentals of foreign affairs and worried about global warming and war. But then I’d move on. As a white American, I had never felt those things right up in my face. I may have had shitty health care coverage, but there was no danger that I would go hungry, face discrimination or have my block blown up.  

It’s clear what having stuff right up in your face does for a person. The French are well-versed in history, politics and philosophy. They get personally involved in protecting the environment and care compassionately for the disadvantaged.

One recent example of the French public spirit occurred last fall, when the government instituted an “energy sobriety” program, asking citizens to turn down the heat in their homes and businesses. There was a concern at the time that war-related gas shortages could lead to rolling blackouts during winter.  

To illustrate his own commitment to the plan, President Emmanuel Macron showed up for a press conference on the matter sporting a turtleneck under his suit jacket. Everyone made fun of him. But they pulled together and ended up lowering consumption by 10 percent. I can’t imagine Americans pulling that off. 

President Macron sported a turtleneck in support of his “energy sobriety” program.

The French definitely have their share of problems, including a whacky right-wing party of nativists and way too much dog poop on the sidewalk. But the characteristics they gain by living among Europe’s ghosts and shadows makes up for a lot of shit on your shoes. 

I may not ever fully embrace life without a garbage disposal, but I am grateful for the shift in perspective that came with it.