Better Than Life

Or virtual reality in reverse

December 2019

“I want to lie, shipwrecked and comatose, drinking fresh mango juice. Goldfish are stepping on my toes. Fun, fun, fun, in the sun, sun, sun…”

My daughter and me belt out the nonsensical words to the Red Dwarf series at the end of every episode. We have done this since she was eight years old. And I swear we are both as out of tune today as we were back then.

I think of it because I’m calling this blog after one of the episodes – Better than Life. The episode is about a virtual reality game that plugs right into their brains. And I’ve been there. I’ve been in virtual reality – in reverse. And it was better than life.

Arromanches-les-Bains

After everything in Tangier fell apart in late 2019 I decided to look for a Workaway to fill in the month before Christmas – after which I would head over to Asia, as per my very original plan from June.

Workaway is a brilliant program which makes your travel money stretch further with the added advantage of getting a bigger cross-cultural insight because you slow down enough to get to know a place and often a family. It’s a kind of volunteer program. Typically, for 5 hours a day, 5 days a week you help out someone in need, and you get bed and food in return. There are variations – working in a hostel, for example, rarely comes with food because they’re not family homes and food isn’t available – other perks with that one!

The idea is to promote ecofriendly projects. Opportunities can be anything – helping in hostels, on farms, child caring, housecleaning, building and electrical help. Some of the more interesting ones I was eyeing off included walking donkeys for tourists on Greek islands, living with a Bedouin family in the Sahara and helping with their crafts, caring for a child while mum the balloon pilot did her early morning flights, living on a barge, yachting around the Atlantic coastline, and helping out in a tree house Airbnb in Turkey.

In my past, experiences in France had involved hitchhiking across it with truckdrivers on the easter weekend in 1985 – perhaps the tail end of when it was reasonably safe to hitchhike. Possibly a little after. But the two drivers I had were good people.

The first one who took me from the Italian border would not let me out of his truck on his way north until he’d found another heading west towards Calais and Dover. I got swapped for a father and son team.

For the rest of the trip I then proceeded to communicate with the only French I knew – I sang Frere Jaques ad nauseam. He was a remarkably tolerant chap – he actually seemed to find the whole experience fun.

So with that as my entire experience of France, I decided it was a good place for my Workaway.

Actually, I lie. That was not the reason for choosing France at all. The reason was that the final scene and climax to one of my stories is set in Bayeux. That and we had our second Mika concert booked for Paris just two days before Christmas – for the 23rd December.

Bicycle through a doorway near the Bayeux cathedral.

Bayeux is a beautiful town in Normandy that was left largely undamaged by the war. It is famous for William the Conqueror – or William the Bastard as he’s known locally – and his 1066 invasion of England and the Battle of Hastings, the subsequent French control of England, and one of the reasons the English spelling and pronunciation system is so screwed up. (besides the Romans, the Danes and the Germans messing with the original Celtic languages…).

Bayeux cathedral through an archway.

As a consequence of the invasion, surely one of the wonders of the medieval world – at least, the creative one – has to be the Bayeux tapestry.

I’d heard about it, of course, from a historical point of view, art interest, and a love of cross-stitch and needlework (yes, I have my own section which I’m working through - one a cross-stitch, and one in the unique style of the original Normal ladies). But comprehending is another thing altogether. It is the story of the invasion – told in detail. Merely half a metre high, the tapestry is 80 metres long.

Yes. Eighty metres.

Some of the Bayeux tapestry. It is shown in the cathedral itself in November.

It’s a book sewn by hand, the “pages” end to end. To see it actually requires the entire inner girth of the whole nave of the cathedral.

It is a delightfully cheeky political comment for the benefit of mellowing the enemy in its conquest and subsequent occupation, while still being a story from the victorious French perspective. If you have a chance to see it be sure to get the audio commentary which not only explains the story but will also point out the lovely details – like the headless bodies, and eyes skewered by arrows which are strewn along the bottom margin of the tapestry (all of them vanquished English soldiers. Of course.).

The headless horseman - sounds like a movie title.

And Bayeux also has a pretty damn good gothic cathedral, built by Will’s brother. It’s not a biggie by French standards, not even notable (except for the Bayeux tapestry). But I’m from Australia and it way outdoes any of our 11th century medieval gothic cathedrals.

Statues in the cathedral’s entrance, with ready made spook factor for my imagination.

Bayeux’s charm is that it’s crowded with beautiful Tudor buildings in old streets (did I ever mention that I love Tudor buildings?), a strong cultural heritage, markets and festivals, curiosity shops, sweet shops, and all set around a river turned into beautiful canals, waterwheel and all, for a healthy tanning industry which flourished in medieval Bayeux.

The cathedral is on the right. I wonder at the fetes and dramas this tree in the square may have seen, how old it might be.

A perfect setting for the climax and grand finale of my story.

So I looked for a Workaway in the area, and out of a number of charming sounding options I landed one just 8 km away – what’s more, on a beach, at a little village called Arromanches-les-Bains (I still don’t know if I say that right!). A lovely lady needed help caring for her elderly and unwell mother (as well as renovating her childhood home – but that was for another workawayer with a different skillset to mine).

I helped with her food, medicine, care and company – got to know the singer Charles Trenet exceptionally well (active from 1933-1999) – mended horse blankets, cleaned out the courtyard and often cooked dinner. Sometimes a workaway is anything the host needs help with on a given day.

I wasn’t needed until 2pm, so I had my mornings free – to work.

As per my new determination to find an “office” everywhere I went, I’d walk the block down the street to the seafront to the only café/restaurant open in December (being winter and tourists on the short side).

Now, if you know anything about Normandy, you will have pre-empted its other claim to fame – besides unprounouncable city names. (It took me weeks to connect the city of Caen with the throat-clearing cough I heard every time I asked about it.)

Because Normandy was the location of the D-Day invasion – the huge campaign to trick the Germans, and the turning point of WWII in June 1944.

The Allied forces (Britain, USA and the Soviet Union) landed on five beaches in Normandy – you may have heard of Omaha Beach. Arromanches was the middle of the five beaches, the one called Golden Beach which most people have never heard about.

A pontoon on a quiet-sea day. They were linked to make floating bridges to get the tanks and other vehicles ashore from the ships after the initial taking of the beaches.

If you don’t know much about the D-Day landing, watch the movie “Saving Private Ryan” starring Matt Damon (Tom Hanks and vin Diesel) which is set around the landing. Even if you do know about D-Day, watch it anyway. It’s an excellent movie, with some interesting angles and views and story about war.

Close up - the pontoons have taken on quite a character over the years.

So my office, my view from the Restaurant Normandy of the the English Channel included all the D-Day detritus – rusted old pontoons still on the beach which had been used to make bridges for the tanks and other vehicles to reach the shore.

The ever-changing sea meant some days I could walk to and around them, others I watched the waves smash against them and burst up into the grey skies.

A big-sea day, with the waves smashing up against the pontoons with all the fury from across the English Channel. The French and English have been on good terms only for the past century, since WWII. Prior to that they were the classic squabbling siblings.

The village is a tribute to those who died, a chilling reminder of the costs when the evil gain unprecedented control – in this case, in lives.

So I had a wonderful month in this charming little village, getting to know Catharine, sampling French life, learning very little French (in spite of efforts I find it a very hard language for speaking and listening, and Catharine’s English is good), there was the reason for choosing my location.

Come walk with me . Let’s explore Arromanches.

There was Bayeux.

Though I’ve no doubt I have many errors in my books, I actually try very hard to get it right, and do a lot of research.

This includes a fight scene. If I want to set them in a real place, I have to do my best to know that place – even if I have never been there. So, as with Bayeux, I got on the ground with google maps (unfortunately no longer possible in a lot of countries). But with Bayeux I walked the streets on google, looked down every alleyway, checked every single photo I could find of the area…

The waterwheel in Bayeux and scene I used for a fight in my story, The Egyptian Labyrinth.”

The first day Catharine took me into Bayeux, as she was driving across a little bridge – I just said stop! Let me out!

Because I knew exactly where I was.

I say virtual reality in reverse. I trolled those central streets til I was intimate with them. I turned it into my virtual reality to the point I knew every little detail of every little street.

But however amazing the net is, it is still not the same as reality. So when I recognized the scene from that bridge, I was stepping out of virtual reality into the real thing. I knew exactly where I was, and exactly where to go. And yet I had never in my life been there.

I say better than life because in a way it is, there is something indescribable about something so familiar becoming real. The drug like effect of the game on Red Dwarf I’m sure doesn’t come near the effect this had on me, and my words feel to me pale compared to that extraordinary experience of seeing my ‘imagination’ come to life.  

Santa in Paris

At the end of my stay with Catharine I went to Paris, visited The Louvre with my daughter (and yes, the Mona Lisa is tiny!) I went to my second Mika concert in the city of light and romance – Paris two days before Christmas was phenomenal. And yet this was even better.

This was better than life.