Our next set of visitors definitely enjoyed the benefit of our previous visitor in May. You can read about that last month. The routes were clarified and streamlined, choices of restaurants adjusted and the knowledge we gained from walking our friend, K, through the steps to get her travel exit Covid test, we were sure would help us with the next set needed.
We repeated the train trip from Lille to Paris CDG airport, getting up at 4:30am to catch the 5:30am train to Paris. We pulled in about 7:00am, had a light breakfast in the airport and they arrived about 8:00. We picked P and A up at airport security exit, travel weary but in good spirits.. A hired driver took us to our hotel that we’d picked in the Latin Quarter, where we left the bags, since at that hour, the rooms were not going to be ready. They had nine pieces of luggage. Two and a half of them held items which belonged to us. They were doing us a HUGE favor in lugging them here so we could avoid shipping costs.
What we didn’t cover in May was that G and I had two lengthy video chats with a family member to help us go through our US storage, the last of our belongings in the states. It was a very difficult process to go through but we didn’t want anyone to have to tackle that job, should we have the bad taste to actually ‘pass on’ before taking care of it. This really did mean the rest of our belongings. The cost to have it all shipped here wouldn’t be practical, so everything was to be given away and all we wanted were our documents, files and photos – which had actually all been scanned before we moved. So as we repeatedly said, “Do with it as you wish”, we watched the condensed version of our 48 years together, flash before our eyes. Things sentimental were pretty much all that was left; artwork, sculptures, Christmas ornaments, even a few unique pieces of furniture and then the deed was done. We were subdued for the remainder of the week as we processed cutting our last ties to the life we had in the US. It was official. We weren’t going to return. We’d gone through this process when immediate family members had died but to handle our own belongings in the same fashion was sobering. So, the storage has been disbanded. No more loose obligations hanging out there for us.
So, there we were, hustling 9 pieces of luggage through the lobby of the hotel because P and A were kind enough to bring our remaining storage stuff. Yep, we have some good buddies, that’s a fact. They had eaten on the flight but because it was so early, we walked to the nearby Jozi Café, which is known for their croissants. They did not disappoint us – absolutely perfect. We picked up two to share and since no one was hungry for a full meal, and it was after noon, we crossed the street to a pub, had a beer and toasted their arrival.
Unlike K, P and A were less interested in the monuments and museums. They were more interested in getting a feel for Paris and the French culture. Of course, with our tried and true method of ‘let’s torture our guests with sleep deprivation’, we jumped on the Big Bus tour. Even though we’d ordered new iPhones, which G immediately switched over to, I still carried my map of the destinations and metro routes needed. It had saved us completely with K, when the GPS on the mobile phones had failed. I harbored some doubts and was happy to have my pencil-note marked map photocopy in my pocket.
We also found out why G had to ride on back of the motorcycle, instead of having his own sidecar last month. It was a matter of how it was booked and since our visitors would be enjoying the same outing, we updated that booking.
On the Big Bus and lots of pictures later, we got off at Galleria Lafayette. We walked through it, admired the architecture and took more pictures from the top terrace. It was now later than expected, which resulted in a hasty meal at an OK place nearby. Back on bus, rode it to the start point, got off and went to the hotel. After checking in, retrieving and depositing our bags in our rooms, the motorcycle side cars arrived at 7:30. We had adjusted the booking to make sure both P and A rode in their own separate sidecar. The drivers (or ‘pilots’ as they are referred to) were two older drivers – Olivier and Denis – and even more delightful than the first two we had in May. G and I waved them off – since we didn’t want to take the trip personally, again. These two gentlemen had great personalities and apparently were better drivers. P told us later that they drove with synchronized precision where the first two were always having trouble staying together. They all came back at 9:00pm, as best friends. More pictures, heartfelt goodbyes and we four shared a bottle of white wine, relaxing and chatting for another hour in the lobby before going to our rooms.
We met P in the lobby about 10 the next morning. He was up, had breakfast and was bright eyed. We walked through the Saint Germain des Prés neighborhood, while he bought souvenirs along the way and eventually made our way to Roger la Grenouille, a restaurant we’d wanted to get to for sometime. The bistro, opened since 1930, serves an authentic French and seasonally fresh menu. It is touted as making the best Croque-Monsieur. We ordered and shared that, boar pâté,, garlic frog legs and caramelized ribs. It was all fabulous, great meal. No word from A and it was after 1pm, so we headed back to the hotel where we found her in the lobby, texting us.
We got on the metro and went to the Montmartre area, seeing the neighborhood used in the film Amelie. A had lunch at the cafe used in the movie and we just chatted. After that, P and G left for the hotel to rest before their night out at Crazy Horse – a place similar to the Moulin Rouge.
A and I walked along the Quai de Valmy before we took a taxi to the speakeasy Bara Naan where we enjoyed gin-tonics over Indian tapas. After enjoying a good, leisurely, long conversation, we walked back to the hotel but accidentally fell across a small cabaret with a piano and chanteuse, sat for another gin tonic and really, really enjoyed this intimate setting. It was an absolute gem. Next we walked back to the hotel, where G and P were already back. We sat and talked about the show they’d seen, that they’d enjoyed tremendously. But the bad part was some where around the cabaret I was pick-pocked and lost my new phone. I never carry a bag but the weather was so warm, that I wore a much lighter coat than I usually do. This coat has pockets that are not inside the lining and not as secure as all of my other jackets. I was beside myself and ill about it. G spent the night changing the passwords and blocking use. They totally knew what they were doing and had been trying to breach the security. We got numerous alerts regarding access attempts, which failed because G was so quick to remove the phone from service. One thing that we didn’t know but are glad to know now is that we could have had the sim card delete everything off of the phone – it had to be done before severing the connection. Not aware of this, we severed the connection first. From that point on, we’ve been watching everything online, like a hawk. Nothing has been breached because of our various security measures and firewalls. No one got hurt, nobody died but it is a hard thing to deal with. G ordered a new phone that we picked up at the Apple Store the next day when we returned to Lille. And that jacket? It’s in the bin.
The next day we took the train to Lille, arriving about 2pm. We showed P the apartment (A had visited us 3 years ago), and got him settled into his room. He and G went to the boulangerie and picked up a baguette, while I cut up sausages, cheeses and boiled eggs. When they returned, G made egg salad and we sat eating and talking. I worked on going through the luggage which held our storage stuff. I managed to empty the suitcases and returned them. Sorting would have to happen later.
Friday was a trip to Brugge. A beautiful day, lazy walk into town – very picturesque. A, who had gone everywhere on a previous trip with her cousin, had not been there and said of all of the places she’s been, it was her favorite. There was the usual souvenir shopping and this time we did the tour of the torture museum, which A wanted to see. We enjoyed a nice lunch in a shady, breezy outdoor restaurant. We were all very satisfied and very tired when we got back on the train to come home.
Unfortunately, on the way to the apartment from the train station, I took a pretty good tumble. Thank goodness there were no broken bones but I earned a really nasty papaya-sized car wreck on my right elbow.
As we did with K, we took them to our favorite cafés, the wonderful Italian market and the produce market. On one lovely day, we even got to play a few rounds of Pétanque. The weather, for the most part, was just perfect during their visit, with only two days that had rain. On Saturday, the town hosted a huge Gay Pride parade that passed below our balcony but we had gone around the corner to a cafe we like and pretty much missed it. It was a quarter of the size of the pre-pandemic one as it was with the amount of spectators.
What we didn’t miss? That was that one of the tenants above our floor, who was not particularly liked by anyone in the building, nor by his flatmates, was moving out. His last farewell was to hold himself a loud goodbye party until noon the next day. We started texting him at 3:30am and hounding him, which he chose to ignore. Calling the police here on a loud party apparently is not very effective. At least we had some entertainment on the side because in the middle of the night/party, there was a tremendous lightening storm. It was truly spectacular.
Anyway, we’ve all survived.
The next day, A and I went up to Audrey’s on the top floor. We brought up a tart made of zucchini, yellow squash, and carrot, which is rather pretty when done, as it has the three colors arranged in a swirl. Audrey was celebrating her birthday. She made Prosecco cocktails and we were joined by Audrey’s friend, Sondra. They fell in love with A and after a couple of cocktails, I decided to return to our apartment. I left it up to A if she wanted to stay because I didn’t want to make her leave as well. The two others encouraged her to stay, so she did. Later, when I was bringing something into our bedroom, I called the guys in. The bedroom window was open and when they came in – I put my fingers to my lips so they would stop talking. We all stood at the window as three female voices floated in the air, singing off key to a Mama Mia song. We laughed. A was clearly having a great time. I did pop up to tell A that I would hold her dinner in the fridge for when she got home, which she did but after we had all gone to bed. The next morning she told us, with a big smile, that it was the highlight of her trip. Her French buddies upstairs have told her that they can’t wait for her to come back.
After lunch on their last day, we went to the pharmacy downstairs like we did with K for the required Covid test 24 hrs in advance of flight, only to find there was no staff in that day that could administer it. So we trekked 30 min to a lab, where they got their tests. Very unhandy but we managed.
Back to the apt for naps and packing, they nervously waited for the test results to arrive by text, which never came. Now everyone was nervous. We found that Paris CDG had Covid testing stations in the airport. It was decided to use that if the results did not come the next morning. And they did not.
We were up at 5:00am for the train to Paris, to be at the airport 2.5 hours in advance of their flight. STILL no lab results so G had to book online, on the fly, for appointments for them both upon arrival. They went straight from the train (I watched the luggage) to the test center in the airport. A 20 min wait and they were good to go. We all reunited and got them to check-in. Next it was security – where we said our final goodbyes.
Back to Lille and everyday life. Back in the apartment we eventually put away the suitcase and traveling stuff and started laundry. We moved all the things we’d thrown in our bedroom to make the guest room friendlier. We also bought a couple of cabinets to fit in our closet for better organization. We started cleaning up emails, straighten things like doctor referral slips. Life does move forward but we sent them these pictures to remind them of what was missing in our apartment. It was them.
In fact, we spent the rest of the month cleaning up a variety of things. Refilling the pantry, checking in on accounts as well as the upcoming doctor appointments with the needed referral paperwork accompaniments. G had a terrible time getting the new phones to sync with apps and behave correctly so he ended up booking an appointment at Apple, for assistance. This whole new phone loss/charge/update to IOS 15.5 thing is a royal mess.
Then of course, we started to meticulously plow through the documents and photos from the storage which littered the office floor. Permanent documents were filed in our US paperwork files to replace what had only been photocopies.
That left the photos but we had already scanned them before leaving the US and given digital photos to all family. These photos had no place to go because no one else was interested in them. As G put it later – it is a tough door to close. Easily seventy years of photos of us growing up, becoming a couple and the variety of people we have known in the passing years. Digital is an abstract form compared to the physical printed photo with my handwriting on the back noting the date and names. To throw away the photos for me, is akin to coming across some stranger’s photo album with sticky corners, in an antique shop which has always felt odd. The digital generations won’t go through that thought process.
The last bag (a big one), contained my handwritten journals – dating from 1996 to the year we left the states. I had others according to my notes, but they were lost over time. I still continue to write regularly and put the journals in my bedroom cabinet. On another day, I went in and put them in chronological order. At the end of the day, with a cocktail in hand, I cracked the first one. It was not actually a journal but a few pages of emails to my dad regaling the adventures in a previous move to HI. It detailed the fresh farmer market finds, the people we were meeting, the hunt for work, the hardship of getting approved for a condo purchase – and talked about our first visitors. Sitting there, I thought about the photos I’d gone through before bagging them which had recorded those visitors. Sat there for a minute and retrieved all of the tossed photos, pulling back out any from 1999, forward. As long as I have decided to read these 25 aught years of unpublishable journaled history, why not stick in appropriate photos as I go? To what end? NO CLUE. But, still – it just seemed right to do so. Who knows? It might end up on a dusty shelf in an antique shop.
Continuing to read the journals during the rest of the month, G ended up joining me in the reading and became addicted. One evening he was up until three in the morning and when I got up at 8:30am, he was already up and reading again. I asked him if he was getting obsessed. He said it was like a mystery novel that you can’t put down. He knows what’s going to happen and he wants to get to that part. Too crazy. Continuing on, I slipped in pictures of people I was talking about in the journal, as I went. When I was finished with each journal year, I felt I had relived it all but it was nice to review meeting people again, who would go on to become friends. In 2001 – I re-experienced our first Paris trip due to a friend’s influence and cheap air fares. The entire cost for 10 days was $750.00, which included air fare, hotel and breakfasts. Amazing. We saw the Louvre, the monuments, a multitude of small art museums, great neighborhoods and tasted fabulous food, It erased our fear of overseas travel in one fell swoop. It was very much less crowded then.
Still not sure what I’ll do with it all. Told G that maybe I’ll bury it deep, someplace in Lille, to be discovered by someone in fifty years or so. Maybe behind a wall of the apartment, to be discovered during some future renovation. Yes, I will say that it’s a lot of angst, whining and thanking the universe ad nauseam. BUT it is also a good sized window of time, of a woman’s life and her struggles in her place in her world. Mundane yes, but still a struggle. Well, it was for me.
In mid month, we celebrated our 48th wedding anniversary. After lunch, we talked about what we would like to do with the rest of the day and ended up going to the movies to see the latest Jurassic Park, in original English, subtitles in FR. It was very entertaining. We went to dinner at a place we’d been meaning to try – a rib and beef steak dinner with a glass of good red wine. Food quite mediocre, so we can cross that one off our list. Walked in the nice evening air – it was not yet sunset and it was a nice end to the day.
Another day did not quite go the way that we’d anticipated. I had the cockamamie idea to try a gin tonic at all three of our three cafes, to find who made the best. We’d been debating who did the best job for quite some time. So we set off on this grand adventure. Well, after the third place (thank heavens that there were only three), G was experiencing some motor skill issues and I got hit with a mischievous streak. We stopped at the Italian market to pick up some dinner (it was clear we would not be cooking) and while there, I spied a hat that I admired. After paying for our takeout, I went back to the hat rack and tried on the hat. It felt wonderful ! It was a great hat !! So I sailed out the door, to Balkiss’ astonishment and happily announced that I was stealing a hat.
Of course the next morning, sporting a well-deserved headache, I looked at this marvelous hat – admiring it all over again. But also knew that I had to march back and return it. When I did, shamefully admitting my wrong, Balkiss did the most amazing thing. She said it was one of her favorite customer’s hat – a beloved gift he’d told her. The thought that it was her responsibility had kept her up all night with worry. When I returned it, she was so grateful that she gave US a bottle of wine. I tried to refuse it, she wouldn’t hear of it. I’m so confused. I stole the hat. I admitted I stole this hat. I return it, filled with remorse. And she gives ME a bottle of wine. Yes. I’m confused……but it was a very fine hat …oh but we now know who makes the best gin tonics.
On June 21, the town was filled with music and a variety of musicians for Fete de la Musique (Day of Music), an interna celebration of music that was started in 1976 by American musician, Joel Cohen, to celebrate, through music, the soltice. It was a huge variety of musicians, playing in several places throughout the city. Wonderful to hear.
The flatmates upstairs were celebrating two new members and saying goodbye to two that we will really miss. They invited us up for a Sunday brunch to say goodbye and hello. It was delightful. I made cheese pillows, described below, to take up. We thoroughly enjoyed their company and will miss the two women; Marie, the violinist and Marine, the classical guitarist. The two new ones – one is a young man, Simon, who is a clarinetist, finishing his studies in university. The young woman, Louise, we believe said that she works in an office. All very nice. Simon turned out to be a vegetarian and the pillows had pancetta. After brunch, we trouped down to show them our place, continuing our discussion about our coffee maker which Marine could hear from her room and the lack of insulation between floors and the layout of their place, versus ours. After they left, I pulled out the cheese mix that I had, which did not have pancetta and a the bit of left over pie dough I had, then made a large pillow for Simon. I brought it up 20 minutes later for him with the marinara and he was delighted with the gesture. After we returned to the apartment we could hear all three playing some pieces together. It was very sweet.
A note on how to make cheese pillows; they have a mix of cheeses – wide variety suggested and mix to your discretion. Take that mix and mix in italian herbs and chopped up fresh basil, salt and pepper. You make two pie crusts, slice tomatoes thin, put them on one crust about two fingers apart, put a spoonful of the cheese mix on top, top with the second crust. Then take a drinking glass and press circles around the bumps. With what are essentially a kind of ravioli, you run a wet finger around the edges to seal. At this point you can either fry them or bake them. I baked them. They are a crowd pleaser especially with the excellent tomatoes you can get here.
Before month end, I finished the journals, taped the dates along the spines. Finished inserting what photos I had as well. G is still working his way through them.
We did get our fourth vaccine (second booster). We caught up with a variety of doctor appointments and worked with our attorney to update our residency cards. Everywhere south of the Paris line hit the ‘red’ heat zone. The very south of France has record breaking heat in the triple digits. The French in the south complain that Lille is too cool but truly, Lille is just fine with us.
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