fatalité

ablaze

Victor Hugo had cried for her in his foreword… And it took a book (“Notre Dame de Paris“) to trigger major restoration works, as the elderly lady was notably suffering from severe erosion to time, history and the elements.

What happened last night felt totally surreal. Notre-Dame has survived so many ordeals – human assaults, the hands from time – and during those 850 years (or so), she saw a city grow and thrive.

Inside her so many memories. Her world famous bell – le bourdon – became associated with so many events (including the liberation of Paris in 1944) happy or sad… And against all odds, she has been standing in this Parisian sky.

Last night, my heart bled at the news, and this orange-grey cloud – flames from her heart, as the 19th century spire yielded to a raging fire that engulfed the forest – this nickname given to those 1300 oak trees that served as timber frame to support that huge slate roof.

Like millions of people around the world, I watched powerless, in disbelief, and heaved the following poem, as a tribute or way to cope with shock.

La forêt

Ô Notre Dame,
    ta forêt brûle, ton coeur en flammes!

Une forêt de chênes
         de cent mètres de long,
une forêt de chênes 
         charpentée par des anges,
une forêt de chênes  
         anoblie par les âges;
 
 toute une nuit orangée a dévoré ta flèche, ton coeur et
ta charpente -

une forêt de chênes,
         maison pour un bossu et son Esméralda...

toute une nuit d'horreur, pluie battante d'ardoises
retrouvées en poussière à l'issue 
                           d'un déluge -

une forêt de chênes au XXIe siècle toute 
                                      réduite en cendres,

ton coeur, ce cher poumon,
                     au plus proche des âmes.


©Nat Hall 2019

The Forest

 
Ô Notre Dame, 
    your forest burns - your heart in flames!

A forest of oak trees 
                long of a hundred yards,
a forest of oak trees 
              carpented by angels,
a forest of oak trees 
              enobled through ages;

it took one orange night to 
devour your heart, spire and timber frame -

a forest of oak trees 
once homed Esmeralda and her loving hunchback,

one single night of hell in 
a deluge of slate as tiles turned into dust -

a forest of oak trees that neared 
               a millenium now reduced in ashes.

Your heart, this dearest lung, 
                     so close to all our souls.

© Nat Hall 2019

Photo credit to Le Monde for both images. Merci.

Pot-au-feu

Pot-au-feu is a traditional French dish my grand mother cooked through the crucial seasons of my early childhood.

Pot-au-feu

Stock memories inside a pot

wide, deep enough to

let the marrow from

the bone melt and

flavour what

you

picked up from

the garden,

what you harvested through

the years –

sprinkle with salt, pepper and

thyme,

tie-in fresh parsley and

bay leaves,

nail them with

cloves,

let

all simmer for a lifetime.

Scoop and savour hot

with

mustard.

NH 2019

tilbake

 Back with eight bairns/ åtte barn

I never thought I would be back with eight pupils and a member of staff, leading them all to twelve days of Norwegian experience in families and school.

It took just under a month (from our new term in Shetland) to land back at Flesland, and wander back in my now familiar Bryggen i Bergen, Vågen, via Bybanen – Bergen’s Light Railway that links BGO to the great sentrum – only this time for a pioneering trip to 62N.

I love school exchanges. I still reminisce that in Germany three years ago, led by my colleague and friend Peter Haviland. This one, however, had a couple of twists: back to familiar territory, and, unique in its nature, for it encompassed four Shetland schools with that in Måløy, Sogne og Fjordane, on the island of Vågsøy. It felt such a great honour to be vetted with both such leadership responsibilities and setting a precedent by both the Association – under the helm of Graham Nicolson and Per Kåre Nybakk – and my school. Three years earlier, I was asked to find host families for a small party of young Norwegians by friend and Shetland-Måløy Twinning Association… This time, I would return with a small group I affectionately christened “the Shetland Gang”. That first term at my High School in Lerwick would prove both hectic, challenging and exciting!

The trip proved to be epic! A two-day trek that would require two boats (Shetland-Arberdeen and Bergen-Måløy) and an aeroplane (ABZ-BGO). And what a saga!

Back in the mythical land, back in what I have always called heim since I first stepped onto Norwegian soil… Where I feel home on this other side of the North Sea.

Back in Måløy, Anita’s homeground… The one who opened the door to it all – NYBAKK, more than a boat, a clan, now my Norwegian family. My first visit there would prove the stepping stone to this year’s voyage and exchange. The great Norskie jigsaw is shaping up with flair and grace.

The ride would prove long and tiring for us all, as we arrived long after dusk on 14 September and engulfed ourselves inside the ferry terminal. Arve was there, with such a huge smile! Our host families, ready to welcome those young Shettis, as the school’s Rektor (Headmaster) Kåre Bakke nicknamed us all, for a good night sleep before our very first day at his establishment. Happy but exhausted.

Some stories to write and share! A brand new taste of Norwegian life began for all. And each of us – pupil & staff – experienced our own along the way. For my part, I was reunited with Anne-Mabel, Arve and Jarl Eirik at Gate 6. And my temporary Norwegian home life was rekindled with unbound joy. Immersed in norsk (with flings of English to relieve my brain!) inside their home, with family and friends, would help me improve my humble knowledge of Nynorsk, and local dialect. Challenged by so many voices, including that of a friendly story teller on the first Friday night at Kraftstasjonen Restaurant! What a night! Anne Mabel and Arve ensured I would have a memorable time, and that they managed effortlessly. I really felt home; helped out Jarl Eirik with homework, felt an integral part of the clan, especially once Sam (their dog) accepted me fully… Hmmm. I knew that leaving them would mean tears in my heart, and it did. They ensured I would explore this wonderful island called Vågsøy.

heim (home) with a view

to each sunrise, new adventure!

skog trening (forest hiking) with Anne-Mabel, Jarl Eirik and Arve for fun!

The Educational Experience

Up at 0630 every morning – each school day began at 0830 and finished at 1410. The Norwegian system encompasses different ethics, which would either make smile or terrorise any British teacher! Some differences – from the day structure to the more informal working relationship – we all tasted for five full days. Our Shetland Gang was challenged every day, and undertook a blend of private study, assembling and delivering their Shetland presentation (as requested by the Association) which they delivered on nearly 10 different occasions to a myriad of class groups – as well as start preparing their own for Shetland, and they even cooked for their Norwegian counterparts & Rektor. Colleague and friend Tanya Myhre would keep us smiling every morning. The In-School programme shaped up for such pioneering experience, and, every single member of staff made us welcome and fully supported. My Deputy Leader would also prove invaluable on a daily basis. What an eye opener!

But we did more than this.

Whereas Tuesday was spent visiting four different local businesses around Måløy, the final Saturday would be felt as the ultimate prize: sightseeing in and around Geiranger , where we also celebrated one of our pupil’s 14th birthday. I believe he will never forget.

trekking through the mountains

Geiranger at water level

stepping out at snow level on the roof of Western Norway

Per Kåre Nybakk and Kåre Bakke worked hand in hand all all levels, and employed a gang of host drivers for such unforgettable experience. I cannot thank them and everyone enough for enabling this entire trip.

An experience our young Shettis and us, team, would never forget.

Some extraordinary stories to tell about their Norskie life chapters, as well as to share with their families & friends back home. Our journey back to our islands’ shore proved as epic as the inbound adventure, as we had to overnight in Aberdeen because of flight and boat timings… But we made it, and now we are resettling into our Shetland lives, we are barely beginning to share our tales.

 

Thank you, Graham, Per Kåre, Valerie, Mandy, Peter and Lewie, for all your support along the way – Marina, for accompanying such pioneering trip, Tanya, Kåre and everyone at the Vågsøy ungdomskule for all help and friendliness, Anne-Mabel, Arve and Jarl Eirik, for having me at home – as well as all our host families and friends. But foremost, to you all, dear Shetland Gang. You were awesome 🙂

vakkert (#wearewoman #2)

 From Norway, West Norway, I COULD HAVE A TRIPTYCH of three beautiful women featured in today’s post – and they are rightly in my heart. Yet I choose the ONE who opened me that wonderful door to Norge, and this is obviously my friend and photographer Anita Orheim, now Perrone.

We are Woman, creative, beautiful.

 Our friendship feels ancestral as well as creative. And when I was asked to attend her wedding to François Perrone, read at the Fana kirke, my lens was also very active on that very magical day. Moment tattooed forever in my heart.

How long now have I known Anita? Photography connects us. Our story flang brand new doors wide open when Anita asked me to cover Norway Liberation Day 2010, celebrated for the very first time in Shetland, with Norwegian Royal representation via the Norwegian Coastguards & closer to her home, via NYBAKK,  the floating museum led by the Nybakk family, which in turn became part of “my Norskie Clan”. We shared so many slices of life since Scalloway, Lerwick, and Shetland…

As many folk say, the rest is history.

 

Please visit Anita’s photographic constellation under Anita Orheim Photography

 

Today, my “Norwegian sister” lives back home happily with François and their peerie man, Alvar.

Here, to celebrate her woman’s work, as a mother in her homeworld, a poem.

 

Le Petit Prince de Norvège

The one who stops looking up at the stars forgets.

He counts clementines at Yule time on a table fit for a prince, or

a dreamer;

give him a glass that will

allow Jupiter’s moons, or the

silky rings of Saturn shine in his eyes –

smallest of things,

single filed ants along a stem,

mayflies newly born at sunrise,

dust from Lyra, or comet hairs

enlight his mind.

Let him

lie down in the meadow where

grass grows high to home hoppers,

mimmick the blackbird,

feel the elk,

befriend a rose or a red fox…

Give him

goggles and leather gloves,

map & compass, coordinates to

avoid dunes in the desert.

Show him

the Moon, the way each waves shapes the heart stone*,

the way the sun clads earth spirits,

weaves green saris in winter skies –

teach him the songs from

auroras.

And if the bridge feels strong enough,

he’ll look at you when he’s afraid, and reach for the string of his kite.

The one who keeps looking at stars will

find his footprints in the

snow.

© Nat Hall 2017

Note:

* the “heart stone”= Kannesteinen Rock, from Oppedal, off Måløy.

 

 

love story

Histoire d’amour, love story. Last June I flew to Hordaland to be by their side. In nine days’ time I shall return and reconvene with this other side of the sea. I remember François speaking of belonging to the clan. I know I do, and cannot wait to step out of the plane in Bergen. Somehow it begins to feel like a Viking’s  homecoming, hamefarin.

Dear Anita and François, it is on its way to you, and should arrive a day before me. :=)

 Access to the wedding photobook HERE 

connected

When writers meet,  share and offer work, words and more,  Poetics shine.  

On the ninth day of July,  such thing was done.  Inside the stones of the long house,  by the harbour, we gathered on shiny floorboards on the first floor, where a mix of faces beamed with delight.

Familiar ones – Kevin, Doug, Marsali, James and Debra… And then new ones who smiled and unleashed most kind words.  Among them,  the co-editor of Shetland  Create, Angie,   the grand orchestrator of it all, welcomed us all, eager to meet us in the flesh. 

What a splendid night we all had. 

One by one we shared words created on the very island where we walk and draw inspiration from.  

With such theme as home,  selected verse from Compass Head felt so very apt on the night.

Fabulous slice of life shared in the warmth of Lerwick’s Peerie Shop Café – a place where I still come to write – in fabulous company. 

Angie’s feeling so very much shared.  Here,  the night in her own words: https://shetlandcreate.com/ 

Now we are connected.

…to Jacqui Clark’s clunk 😇

Havra,  celebrated once more, shining in the limelight, this time thanks to Scottish poet Sally Evans via her blog & brainchild, keeppoemsalive,  and featured along other poets Sally enjoys. 

https://keeppoemsalive.com/2016/07/17/that-big-blue-dream/ 

Connected to the great Scottish family one more time. 

Happy poet 🙂

recompense

It is official since tonight: Nordland Publishing welcomed me as their third poet, following a contract agreement and a shared wish for years of fruitful collaboration. As a poet & writer, am utterly thrilled to be part of the family. Wonderful birthday present that crowned a 15-year old literary project, soon to turn into a book, entitled Compass Head.

Compass Head, this first solo collection of poetry, with elements of flash fiction, is very much a Shetland product, even though it is above all a geopoetical journey from my native Normandie to my chosen, Nordic home – where my heart beats – through time and space. As for From Shore to Shoorma/ D’un rivage à l’autre (BJP 2012), co-penned with Donna Allard, Compass Head is peppered with French and Shetland dialect. It is my privilege and orthographic signature, in the sense such journey is tainted, as a multi-lingual voice. It only feels too natural as a process. I believe Kenneth White – the father of Geopoetics – would embrace this.

It is a very exciting project am only too happy to be nurtured by Nordland Publishing, under the editorial headship of MJ Kobernus, to whom – as well as fellow blogger & author Andy Murray, who got the ball rolling – I feel indebted.

A wonderful adventure has begun, and I feel the heart of young Jim Hawkins from Treasure Island pounding inside my shirt :-).

The most wonderful feeling.

Thing-Ting-Ding

Today,
15 young Shetlanders, learners of Norwegian, learnt about the meaning of ancient democracy, Viking style.
For this, they were invited to visit a sailing exhibition on board a boat I associate with summer, friendship as well as a powerful lifeline with my own ancestors.
This ship is called M/S NYBAKK .

On a 2-day visit to my side of the North Sea, this floating museum reached the last leg of an epic journey through both North & Irish Sea & Atlantic, even sailing across the Caledonian Canal (from SW to NE) to reach out to the Northern Isles.

At each stage of the voyage, NYBAKK anchored in ancient & deeply rooted democratic sites. Some are called “things”, others, “dings” or “tings”, depending where you stand on the old Viking map.
Now, last month, on 17 May 2014, Norway celebrated her 200th Anniversary as a democracy. It is also known as Constitution Day, and since the Northern Isles were once part of the Viking realm (for much longer than it has been Scottish), such Day is celebrated on this side of the North Sea. It makes complete sense, as this corner or edge of the kingdom remains above all Scandinavian.

The islands indeed belong to a network of ancient parliament sites, which, in the eyes of NYBAKK, had to be mapped and celebrated. For this, Foundation Leader, Per Kåre Nybakk, contacted Shetland Amenity Trust and offered to sail through those ancient sea trails from the North Atlantic with a formidable exhibition.

The project is called THINGProject

Over the course of today, Wednesday 25 June, NYBAKK was involved with various events, including a civic reception at Lerwick’s Town Hall, a visit to Scalloway & Tingaholm, Shetland’s most famous ting, or Field of Parliament and special presentations at Scalloway Museum.

Among the speakers, Per Kåre Nybakk delivered a powerful message of friendship he carefully included in his speech. Placing high values on our shared cultural heritage, the importance of such network as well as friendship between us all. Needless to say education is high on his agenda.

Today, young Shetlanders learnt about such project, history, shared heritage and bonds from both sides of the North Sea. Our northern isles are very special.
Today, we celebrated a fantastic human adventure as epic as the Norse Sagas.

More is to come 🙂

new poem

I still remember how prolific colonial New Zealand writer Katherine Mansfield helped me shape – among many other great classic writers – my love for creative writing when notably reading English-speaking literature in Aix-en-Provence.

Katherine Mansfield, photo courtesy of National Library of New Zealand

Her body of works is so resonant and magical, and has always struck me, with two short stories in particular, “Tickets, Please!” and “Bliss”, which remain forever tattooed in my heart.

The latter, Bliss, notably include peaches, as bliss via the symbolism of the peach tree.

Now, when I think of peaches, it takes me back to Mansfield’s wonderful constellation, as well as two places in time – as a nine year-old struck by chickenpox and being nursed by my beloved grandmother, as well as right now, recovering from a viral infection.

Peaches, to me, have always been golden healers. Now, there is a poem, of the same title, published in British Columbia by Michelle Vinci, for the purpose of The Global Twitter Community Poetry Project

Happy reading! 🙂

You too can get involved.

love of the sea

July, month of candles, as twenty two years ago, I traded dust for salt, and leapt across the sea to begin my journey north, where stravaig takes full dimension. I might have arrived with a couple of crates and a busted ankle, but a brand new lease of life began on a brand new shore, with a brand new heart.

What does it mean to the nomad?

I left behind a continent, a way of life, friends and language, with which I often reconvene… I learnt to keep to the left side, and discovered a brand new world through may voices then unknown. I’ve learnt to love each new morning, find my way through sand and pebbles, as well as in between harbours, headlands and lighthouses.

Salt replaced dust.

I have learnt to adapt to new shores, to recognise differences between two spheres that are both close and miles apart… With hindsight, we share such a common cultural heritage – from Normandy to the Northern Isles, we share that concept linked to NORTH – nor, nord, norm, north… My maternal great grand mother gutted herring on some quay in Fécamp. Here is my carte de visite. I’ve learned to love the names of new mountains, rivers, flowers, shells, birds, lores, firths, voes and wicks. I have made exciting connections with a myriad of kindred spirits all around, and opened my heart to their world, that gradually turned into mine. This latitude, symbolic 60N, has long become my chosen home.

And when I am asked, “where are you from?” I often answer, “many places”. Yet above all, I am a citizen of the world – a free spirit, chameleon, avid to share with the variety of folk, customs and traditions, without fear or prejudice. Yes, there is a heck of a twang in my tongue, but I embrace the poetics of my homeworld.