Sit Down Before Reading

Things can change quickly in the mountains. Weather systems move fast, changing blue skies into rumbling thunderstorms in a matter of hours. Rapid changes in altitude can chill the air quickly; the temperature at the top of a col can be ten degrees lower than the temperature at the bottom. Ideas can change quickly, too. I have always found that spending time in nature, and in the mountains in particular, can silence the chattering in the mind, change the colour of certain feelings, allow for new ideas to bubble up, and give old ones the space to redefine themselves or be put to bed if found to be no longer useful.

So here's what came to pass in the mountains for me last week: I ate meat. And cheese. That's right: I ate meat and cheese. It happened like this: we arrived at our final stopping point of the trip, a remote chambre d'hôte in the foothills of the Pyrenees. For those who are not familiar with the chambre d'hôte experience, the arrangements are similar to a bed and breakfast in that you have your own room and washroom facilities, however the experience is more akin to being a guest in the host's home rather than a formal accommodations arrangement (in the old days, it would more commonly be a farmhouse where the farmers wife took in paying guests to subsidize the household income).

All this means that you eat meals with the family.

So there I found myself, seated at a long, wooden table in the kitchen of a remodeled eighteenth-century farmhouse perched on a hilltop with a panoramic view of the Pyrenees on one side, and a view down into the fields where the family’s horses were grazing on the other. Our hosts, Dorothée and Jean-Louis, had invited us to share an aperitif with them while they buzzed around the kitchen and adjacent terrace, preparing dinner and sharing in tandem the story of how having raised five children, they discovered, fell in love with and bought the old ruined property eight years ago and have since devoted all of their time to rebuilding it into haven where people could come and experience nature and hospitality in a pure and simple way. I was doing my best to follow along in French, but was mostly staring at the outdoor firepit, upon which Dorothée’s homemade sausages were roasting, and wondering how on earth I was going to explain my dietary particularities to our hosts. Dorothée was telling us how her and her sister had spent a day making the sausages together, using meat left over from last year’s hunting season, while she checked the progress of the potato gratin that was made with potatoes from their garden and cheese from a neighbouring farm. Three aperitifs later, the sun was setting and dinner was almost ready. I went upstairs to fetch a sweater and mull things over.

It took all of three minutes. I decided there and then that the time was ripe to change les règles (change the rules) for the remainder of the year: I would henceforth lay aside my vegan preferences when eating food that others have prepared for me. Having settled on that, I descended to the kitchen and broke bread with our hosts and the other guests who had assembled around the kitchen table; twelve of us in total. Over the course of the next three hours, I consumed some of the best sausages I have ever tasted in my life, cheeses that I had never heard of before because they are particular to that region of the Pyrenees, a homemade apple torte that most likely contained butter and eggs but I wasn’t asking, and last but certainly not least, ice-cream.

I realize that this news may come as quite a shock to my readers (and hence the forewarning heading), but in fact, it's been on the cards for a while. The need to be flexible at certain times in life is a concept I've been turning over in my mind for some time now. It doesn't come naturally to me; I have somehow had being flexible tangled up with lack of commitment for goodness knows how long (I recall my stringent examination of labels and in-depth investigations into the stock used to make soup in restaurants back in January with a wry smile now; I actually stopped doing that a few months ago). There's a quote out there about how the happiest people you will meet in life tend to be the most flexible in the face of changing circumstances. I can't find the quote, but I am beginning to understand it on a new level, and would even add to it: relaxing a rigid approach also opens up the mind to see new opportunities as they arise. And all this has nothing to do with a lack of commitment. My life has changed dramatically in the last eight months; I don’t have the solitary life that I had when I first decided to become vegan in Switzerland. I share meals with others more frequently here in France, and while I’ve been amazed at how others have gone out of their way to accommodate me and have taken it as an opportunity to show the depth of their hospitality and their ability to adapt, I no longer feel the need to adhere to my diet preferences with an unwavering rigidity. I have no doubt that eating a diet free of animal products has put me in the best health of my life and can fully support an Ironman training program with surplus energy to spare. In that sense, the need to test the hypothesis under scientific conditions has, for me, past.

And I am beginning to understand that you can hold true to the spirit of a commitment without living a black and white life. In other words, I am becoming more flexible.

And suddenly, I feel happier.