Chelsea's Arrives in Paris

Up at 5 am to pick Chelsea up at Charles de Gaulle. It was a welcome change to drive through the empty streets of Paris. On the interstate, we passed a long line of cars in an exit lane. After we passed, we realized that was our exit, as well. We had to keep driving five more miles to the next exit. We took some back roads, which just so happened to lead us directly to terminal 1. We had no idea which terminal her flight would arrive in. Her phone wasn't working, and we had no way to reach her. I was panicked not knowing how we would ever find her. I felt sick that she would be scared and not be able to communicate with anyone since she didn't speak French at all. We stood at the gate with a mass of people holding up signs for their arriving parties.

No Chelsea.

Kurt stood there waiting while I walked around searching the crowd here and there.

No Chelsea.

Kurt noticed a man in a cowboy hat, so I asked him if he was arriving from Charlotte. He was. Everyone else had gotten off the plane.

No Chelsea.

I was about to lose it. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to see my smiling Chelsea. I grabbed her and squeezed her tight once, then again, and again. I felt the sobs coming and I had to let them out. I hadn't realized just how worried I really was. Whew!

Kurt, Chelsea and I, finally in the car, headed straight into morning rush hour traffic. We went so slow for so long that the GPS lady asked, "Would you like to switch to pedestrian mode?" We may have laughed a little too hard out of relief.

Out of Paris, we stopped for fueling and Kurt made me drive so I would be prepared when I pick up Mom and Kathy next week.

It was so good to be back at our home in Baran. We had heard great things about La Merenda, a quaint restaurant owned by a married couple in the nearby town of Meyrals. The wife runs the restaurant upstairs and her husband runs the tavern downstairs. It was really good French food. Kurt and Chelsea really liked the Magret de Canard.

his restaurant is way out in the country. One would think that only the locals eat there, but when we arrived, we were seated at a table set for a large group of people. We tried our best to convey that there were only three of us. Finally, they moved us to a smaller table. Just then, we heard people outside speaking English. I listened. "They are southerners." When they entered, we said, "Hello." As they returned our greeting, I said, "They sound like they could be from Kentucky." They were!

At the table next to us in a remote little local restaurant deep in the countryside of France, were 4 couples from Kentucky, and Wildcat fans, no less. We even knew several of the same people. What a coincidence!

We savored our after-dinner cafe's

On the way home, we took Chelsea to see L'Oratoire at dusk. It is such a beautiful and special place.

The Road to Paris

We packed light for a quick trip to Paris to pick Chelsea up at the airport. I asked Kurt to stop at McDonalds for coffee. We'd had our fill of espresso. Even an Americano is a little too strong for us, so we were ready for a little taste of home. After paying, Kurt said, "Uh, Mom. Look at our coffees. The cups looked the size of the ones the nurse hands you, if you get my meaning. It was espresso, should have known. I laughed until I cried a little.

We have had a love/hate relationship with our GPS on this trip. It took us through hills and forests. Kurt said, "This does not look like the road to Paris should look." We even had to slam on the brakes so we didn't hit a hawk sitting in the road who turned around to take a second look at us.

We passed a farm full of geese waiting to be sold as foie gras at the Sarlat market.

At one point the road ran along a ridgetop where we could see the 360 degree view of the countryside below, filled with red roofed houses and green fields full of white fluffy sheep.

When we finally reached the interstate, the torrential rains started so I decided I'd sleep for a couple of hours to let Kurt concentrate on driving. The GPS took us right through the middle of Paris during rush hour traffic with the craziest drivers. I had to close my eyes some, but at least we got to see a lot of Paris.

I hadn't planned on going with him to pick Chelsea up, so Kurt had rented a hostel for the night. At the last minute, I decided to go because of all the rain in the forecast. As we drove through the pretty streets of Paris, I felt okay about staying in a hostel since Kurt was with me. But the longer we drove, the more the scenery changed. I was trying to be brave but I was pretty concerned by the time he let me out of the car to go inside to ask about parking. Immediately I was whooped and hollered at. Thankfully, Kurt had his window down and witnessed the scene. He yelled at me to quickly get back in the car. I was so relieved!

I knew just where we should stay. Hotel Aida Opera is where Ashley and I had stayed in 2008. When we arrived, it felt like going home. I knew where to eat, where to get money exchanged and even where to find the chocolate.

We chose Bouillon Chartier, a favorite restaurant of the locals, for dinner. My obvious accent must have given us away when I asked for, "Une table pour deux, y'all" because he sat us at a table with two other American families, a couple from Alabama and Paul and his wife from California. We had great conversations and lots of laughs. For instance, when we had plenty of time to look over the menu and the waiter came to take our order. He said in blunt English, "What do you want?" Paul, in his happy Asian accent replied quickly back, "Whachu got?" He said it to make us laugh, and we all did, except for the waiter. He gave a "Hmph!" then stomped off. He didn't come back to take our order for another half hour. We didn't mind, though, because Paul kept us in stitches.

After dinner, we stopped to purchase chocolates to have with coffee later in the room. We opened the windows and drifted in and out of sleep all night to the cool breeze and the comforting sounds of Parisian night life.

Monique's Jardin

While Kurt was away to Perigueux, I took a walk in the village and ended up in Monique's garden. She had asked me to keep her flowers watered while she was on vacation, but it had been raining for days. These pictures that I took are blurry because it was a misty day, but it is somehow fitting because they have a dream-like feel, which is how I would describe my entire trip, dreamy and beautiful.

So much texture and beauty

Details

Blurry beauty around the hamlet

When Kurt arrived home, we drove to the train station in Souillac to purchase his return ticket from Barcelona, where he will fly to attend a concert.