SEARCHING FOR FREDERIC

In 1982, as a young women in her early twenties, I went to Lyon, France to start work as an au pair for two doctors. My employment was to look after their two children, opinionated Marcel, aged 4, and Princess Maureen, aged 6. I spoke very little French, (I remember Maureen correcting me) and, if honest, did not like the children, or the family, or my work.

I tried to improve my French by attending a language college, and loved meeting a vast array of international young people, who were like me. I became friends with two men who had escaped Communist Poland and who wanted to practice their English, not their French, believing the opportunities in England and the USA were greater than in France. One night the three of us went to a dance which is where I learned formal classroom language learning can only take you so far. At the dance I met Frederic and suddenly learning the French language took on a whole new dimension.

Frederic was studying to be a doctor, he had wispy, fine, light brown hair, was not much taller than me and had wonderful green eyes which he used for intensive gazes I believed meant he adored me as no other man ever had. Under his tutelage my ability to speak French suddenly improved in a way that had not been achieved in the classroom, and I realised if I was serious in my commitment to learn the language and speak it well, I needed to fall in love with a French man. I needed Frederic as my teacher. Unfortunately, as happens with all distant relationships, after six months my contract ended, and I returned home. But I never forgot Frederic and his ability to teach me French and introduce me to the French culture.

Memories of Frederic remained dormant for 40 years, until, last year when I decided to enrol, for a two-week language course at Ecole Des Trois Ponts, in Roanne, one hour away from Lyon. One hour away from the city in which I last saw Frederic, forty years ago.

So I returned to Lyon last year. Frederic, if indeed he is still alive, would be over 65 now…probably bold…probably fat…probably married…maybe divorced, but still with the piercing green eyes. Somethings never change.

After three days looking at older men on the streets of Lyon, wondering if they could be him, smiling and having my advances ignored, I ended my obsession to find him, left the city and started my French Language Course at Ecole des Trois Ponts. I made the mistake of telling one of the instructors how my love for the French language started with Frederic in 1982, and the next thing I knew her computer screen was full of photographs of doctors working in the Lyon area, over the age of 60, called Frederic, as she encouraged me to study their faces to see if one would engender a long lost spark.

But too much time has passed. This objective was futile. The man whose last name I forgot, who I tearfully said goodbye to before the Christmas holidays of 1982, who had the wonderful green piercing eyes will consistently only be a memory, but a memory who taught me that to learn a language and to enjoy the process you have to live in the country, you have to enjoy the culture, and maybe you have to fall in love with a Frenchman… and if falling in love with a man called Frederic is not an option, consider studying at Ecole Des Trois Ponts.

Jayne Seagrave is a BC Best selling Author. The ninth edition of her book Camping British Columbia, the Rockies and the Yukon was published by Heritage House in April 2023. Over 60,000 of her camping books have been sold. She also writes fiction, non-fiction, freelance articles and occasionally teaches writing and publishing courses. See: www.jayneseagrave.com