Ludo’s Story

This is not my story to tell. However, I thought it was such a fascinating story that I need to recount it.


I came outside nearly in tears. Francis sat on the hammock reading – ironically – about justice. He is a lawyer. I thought at that moment I was going to need one myself.

I had just heard from the States and there have been a lot of incredibly ridiculous problems and drama in the subletting of my apartment in Boston. I refuse to give up the life here to return somewhere where I don’t want to be. I’m healthy here. I’m loving it. And I have amazing opportunities presenting themselves right and left. I’d be a fool to go back. I poured my poor cluttered heart out to Francis, who was outraged, but tried desperately to calm me down with the logic of the law.

My rational slowly returned. But it’s terribly to be even a bit gloomy, stressed, whatever here in the south of France. We sat talking overlooking the view and I just wanted to scream. This is a place for laughter and joy, and tears and anxiety. Just then, Ludo marched back up the path from the crique. “I need to share a story,” he said in his thick, French accent. “I just had a most wonderful experience at the crique.” So Francis and I shut up and listened.


He went down there by himself. He’s a stressed man and the crique is an amazing place to be, to relax. Once our private swimming hole, we always cringe if there are people there now, even though it is technically public land. As Ludo walked down the path, he could see through the trees that there were a large group of boys, and two girls.

“Strange,” he thought. “Two girls and so many men. But, ok. Whatever.” And he marched his way down the crumbling stairs to the rocks, now hardly covered in cement, below.

Once there, he had an urge. Tai Chi. “I do Tai Chi because I am a stressed man. It gets me back to nature. To find my insides again. To be calm.” And there, standing in his Speedo, the scrawny man had an overwhelming desire to do his sport. So he did.

His eyes were closed and his head hung loosely toward the ground. He stood on a tiny patch of solid grown, feet shoulder length apart, back perfectly straight. Slowly and steadily, he rolled his head in large circles, letting out tiny groans and sounds as he did – noises he himself was not aware that he was making.

“Um, sir?” His meditation broke. He opened his eyes. There stood one of the boys, scrawny himself, about 18 years old. “Are you ok?”

“Oh sure, sure” Ludo said, laughing. “I do Tai Chi.”

“Oh,” the boy turned to walk away, paused, and turned back to the strange man moaning beside him. “What’s that?”

And Ludo explained. And as he explained, the boys came over, one by one, to listen intently about the art of Tai Chi. Ludo spoke passionately of his craft, happy that all the children were so eager to learn about it. And they spoke of life; Ludo explained what he did and why he was stressed, why Tai Chi appealed to him. The boys explained that they were on vacation, just finished high school in France and were soon going off to the university. Ludo told them that he learned to swim here at the crique, that the stairs and cement were laid by his grandmother.

“You must hate it when there are strangers here. This is your land. You must not like that we are here, right?” they demanded, ready to leave if this man asked them to.

“No no no,” Ludo has the biggest heart. “Of course! Please! Stay! Enjoy this place. It’s wonderful. That’s what I want, for it to be enjoyed. I am only angry when people are bad to it, when they make the trash or leave things or destroy it.”

When Ludo had satisfied their curiosity, they politely left him to his art. Slowly they began to dawdle off. Ludo began Tai Chi. Slowly, lost in meditation, he stretched, moved carefully around the rocks, bringing his body back to the ground, back to Earth, back to nature. He opened his eyes quickly. The entire group of kids looked up at him with eager eyes. Ludo stopped, maybe embarrassed a bit? But then the children did something even more amazing – they clapped. They cheered. They were impressed by the old man’s skills. And Ludo, being the excitable and silly man that he is, took a gracious bow.


Francis and I laughed throughout Ludo’s story as he recounted it with passion and hand gestures and a huge, goofy smile. It was an amazing story, and it felt good to laugh. It amazes me; the crique is a phenomenal place for incredible experiences. Most of the Michel family met the sea for the first time in this tiny inlet. Yesterday morning as Francis, Ludo and I swam, we met another French couple with a tiny little boy who was learning to swim for the first time there, too. He giggled with joy. It was beautiful. The crique simply breeds beautiful experiences.

If only the walk back wasn’t so hard. Hah