My childhood was amazing and unique. In fact, it ruined my life in many ways. I remember when I was seven, listening to the radio in my parents' room in Australia, eyes closed, lying on the rug with my head on a pillow, the sound of the branches and leaves blowing in the wind outside. I often wonder, is this a dream and am I still in Australia? Will I wake up and be able to do it all differently? Or is this my life and my memories will always be an albatross around my neck?
1956 Le Mascaret (La Barre)
We went every year between 1956 and 1959 to see le mascaret. My parents would take my sister and me out of school for the day. We used to go to Caudebec, a place where the river was deep, and we would watch as huge waves would go by, very fast (they say the waves move with "the speed of a galloping horse" which is about 35 mph), and the water just disappeared. I remember seeing river rats running along the sides looking for the water. It was just like multiple tsunamis, the waves would come, one after the other, and it was as though all the water was sucked out behind them.
According to Google, "Until extensive engineering works were completed in 1963, there was a huge one on the Seine estuary. La Barre, as it was called, occasionally damaged moored ships as far upriver as Rouen (which was farther upriver than Caudebec). At Caudebec-en-Caux it sometimes reached 4 metres high and was capable of causing severe damage to any ship left moored alongside a quay. It attracted crowds from miles around."
Victor Hugo's oldest and favorite daughter, Léopoldine, died at age 19 in 1843 (on September 4, my birthday), shortly after her marriage. She drowned in the Seine at Villequier, pulled down by her heavy skirts, when a boat overturned while they were trying to ride out le mascaret. Her young husband also died trying to save her. People on shore stated that he could easily have swum to safety, but he would not leave her. Two other people on the boat also drowned.