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.
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