Receiving, Light and Loulou: Arriving in the South
The Joy of Being Alive, Part I

As announced in my last blog post, I set off for the South of France after my healing stay at Schliersee.

This trip now was a journey that exceeded everything I had ever dared before in terms of length and unknown factors. The route covered 1200 kilometers, leading through Austria and Switzerland to France and then all the way down to the south.

Fortunately, no left-hand traffic was involved—that would have been the last straw for me… 😉

Following my friend’s wonderful planning, I had divided the journey into two sections, with a stopover at her husband’s place, who lives in Switzerland for work during the week. He was to provide me with additional tips and tricks for the ride.

The drive to him took six hours—apart from breaks—and after some initial apprehension about whether I would be able to buy the vignettes in time, it was overall a fairly smooth affair. My dear friend at Schliersee had prepped me before my departure with valuable information and energetic support.

I was amazed at how fast the Swiss drove and generally adapted to the flow, which in my perception didn’t differ much from that on German highways, just at a lower base speed.

My shock was enormous when my friend’s husband later explained that in Switzerland, you get fined for speeding even by just one km/h. Then why was everyone driving like maniacs—at least according to Georgia’s speedometer?

Thusly primed, I continued my journey in a cold sweat in my attempt to stick to the speed limits—which apparently made even the Swiss noticeably aggressive. Crossing into France promised relief, but only at first. The further south I got, the harsher the light became for my eyes which had already adjusted to autumn, and the more erratic the trucks’ overtaking maneuvers seemed. It was simply a terribly long drive: every three hours I needed a one-hour break, and after 11 hours I arrived at my destination completely frazzled.

The last stretch—a winding swamp and coastal road notorious for reckless speeders and dangerous overtaking maneuvers—I should have avoided, but due to my exhaustion and fear of losing the last juice on my phone, I had ended up there anyway.

A speeder behind me tailgated and high-beamed me so intensely that I pulled off in panic onto a tiny emergency stop which was a whole asphalt layer lower than the road and consisted primarily of the sand and rock formations typical of the region. In my haste I hadn’t noticed this. After I had calmed down somewhat—at first I was crying and hyperventilating uncontrollably—I had to get back up onto the road. When driving up over this steep edge, I felt like I was scraping Georgia’s undercarriage, and she felt as weak-chested as I was, which immediately reactivated my panic mode.

Thank God there was an elderly couple behind me who deliberately kept their distance and used their lights to signal that no one should overtake me anymore. So I drove along crying and hyperventilating for what felt like 20 minutes, pulling a whole convoy of cars behind me, until I finally came to a stop at the entrance to the settlement… thankfully right in front of a pharmacy.

When I got out, I was so dizzy that I had to sit down on the pavement several times. In the pharmacy, an employee helped me immensely despite my broken French, sold me a calming herbal spray, and advised me to first look for the house on foot and then drive there with the car. This advice was invaluable.

As it turned out, I had come to a stop not far from my destination and after the little reconnaissance walk, I could indeed park dear Georgia near the house much more calmly.

Shaken, I carried the most important things from the car into the house and called friends who immediately helped me calm down. Nevertheless, I still felt very lost and alone; I was literally still scared stiff.

Then suddenly a distinct meow sounded very close to me: until then, the caramel-colored Loulou had not stood out visually among the many wicker accessories in the otherwise beach-colored furnished house. Yet she had apparently been sitting patiently on the office chair the whole time, taking in the curious new arrival with all its belongings.

Excited but friendly, she rubbed against my legs, sniffed, and soon marked everything with the corner of her mouth. She also let herself be petted surprisingly quickly—but above all, of course, she wanted her evening meal. I found this very quickly thanks to my friend’s wonderful instructions, and my rattled nerves calmed down noticeably.

Slowly I could also perceive the great gift basket that she had prepared in the name of cat and family, and I also found my sleeping quarters.

When I finally ate and drank again—after a day with deliberately little fluid and food intake to avoid getting too tired or having to constantly use the toilet—I noticed that much of the panic had been able to take hold precisely because of this.

Moreover, through looking at the navigation system—which had become possible for the first time through installing my phone in my newly acquired phone holder—I had seen my actual driving speed—I was regularly below the speed on my speedometer!

In retrospect, this meant two things:

All the people who had overtaken me in the past with marked irritation—despite my efforts not to drive “exactly xx”—had been right: Apparently, I had constantly been driving far too slowly!

On the other hand, there was now hope that my first day of excesses in Switzerland hadn’t been so excessive after all. Perhaps I had been driving just right…

No wonder everyone seemed to be speeding to me!

Nevertheless, the shock still ran deep, so I waited several days after my dramatic arrival before driving again. And when I did so, I was relieved to find that Georgia was fine. Moreover, people overall—with a few exceptions who overtake with high beams even on solid lines without visibility into the curves ahead—were driving quite leisurely. Furthermore, I now finally had an accurate speed display—which, by the way, also revealed that apparently 80 km/h is the maximum speed on country roads in France… Insights upon insights. 😉

But now back to the wonderful cat lady who henceforth determined my stay. Her trustfulness was and is such a sweet gift that I can’t even put it into words.

I had expected a wild cat who exclusively climbs in and out through the barred kitchen window when she wants, generally does her own thing and comes mostly for food.

The Loulou I’m privileged to experience is trusting, affectionate, talkative, and extremely pleasure-seeking.

In the first days I was still very cautious and once very sad when I had apparently startled her with a sudden movement: After a “trusting” night in which she had even slept on my foot, she suddenly bolted away in the morning after food and petting and hadn’t been seen since.

My friend reassured me explaining this was normal—but in my mind old reaction patterns took hold: I surely had done something wrong and caused irreparable damage.

When Madame Cat returned in the evening, it was as if nothing had happened, and since then I’m absolutely fine with whatever moods she displays.

I also think I’ve figured out that this “bolting away” is a kind of ritual that she even enjoys. When I once commented on it laughingly, she paused halfway up the stairs and looked down questioningly.

The extent of what she understands is incredible—and then again not: She is, after all, a very conscious being with wishes and preferences who reads the energy around her at all times.

All the more grateful am I to her that she makes every day and night a pleasure for me; apart perhaps from the sometimes very early morning wake-up meows prodding me to finally give her her food.

The longer we spend time together, the more it suffices to just think things at her to know that she knows what I mean.

And this also applies in reverse!

Once in the evening while watching movies—a wonderful occasion to have her on my lap and pet her extensively until she gets too warm—I pulled my plugged-in iPad closer to switch something, and she gently swiped at the cable.

I remembered that there were special package strings for her, fetched one and waved it in front of her face. The look I received was so full of contempt, as if I had insulted her honor and intelligence. She even incredulously tilted her head and then disappeared wordlessly, or rather meow-lessly.

Isn’t it great how once again the animal trains me and not the other way around?

While she previously had to go through the kitchen window to get in and out of the house, she now knows what sounds to make from outside with her paws and from inside with her claws so that her devoted servant opens the house or terrace door for her to stroll through.

But this is a “serving” that brings joy.

And… oops, NOW I have to go feed her—the meowing has definitely become too loud and insistent by now!

To convey an impression of her infinite capacity for enjoyment, I’m adding a few pictures.

This time I don’t have many questions for you, if only:

1. Do you have someone (and I count animals among these “someones”) who is able to enjoy with total abandon?
2. If yes, do you allow your body to resonate with this vibe?
3. What if there can never be too much sleep or affection? 😉