Wisdom

 

It means, treasure the little things. ❤️

Eglise Saint Maurice

 A warm day designated for rest, laundry and a few groceries grew much richer as we rounded the corner to discover the Tuesday market at Eglise Saint Maurice, a place of worship and sunny plaza dating back to the 6th Century.  Our interest was captured by the vendors - displays of French cheese, fresh seafood, vegetables, beautiful fruit.   We had already picked up the essentials at the grocery store, so returned to the market to load up on French cheese - Morbier, Comte, St. Nectaire, Fourmes, Jeune Brebis and gouda Vieux.   The vendor happily gave us samples of each and we murmured our thanks, not in French but in universal exclamations of delight, head bobs and effusive hand gestures.  He got the message.  Our packs burst with vegetables, everything from yellow beans to onion to garlic to deep purple eggplant.  I have no idea what’s on the menu tonight, but the cook knows.

Tomorrow - perhaps - we will explore this delightful city more thoroughly.  But today, is for rest. And cheese… lots and lots of cheese.

The Cadillac

 What a day.

I would have to think hard to count how many trains we were on today. The first was just after 8 a.m., to Dresden HBF. Six trains followed, and the sixth we missed by not even thirty seconds.

Thirty seconds.

Dave had wisely cancelled those tickets when we knew we were running late, but it was a bitter irony to discover that we could have made it after all. Especially when the replacement tickets cost him another $90.

We cooled our heels at Paris SUD and finally ate a meal: a cheese baguette with tomato, two very large beers, and a lively conversation with a fellow traveller who was originally from Brazil but had lived in Paris for fifteen years. He was friendly and funny, an Irish brandy promoter, and he gave us a little glass to sample.  That may have been part of what made the final train so much more pleasant.  The other part was that it was first class.  Silent. Sleek. Gliding through the darkness at 350 kilometres an hour.  We made it to Reims in only forty-five minutes.  I could have stayed on that train all night.  Of all the trains we rode that day, this one was a Cadillac.

When we slipped silently into the station, we checked the route to our lodging. Maps reported that it was “only 1.5 km.”  Only.  Uh huh.

It was, at least, straight shooting. No tunnels. No complicated turns. Just a very long walk dragging suitcases and backpacks through the inky darkness, quickly, because it was hot and we were tired.  I might have been worried, except for the cheerful young people who passed us now and again.  This is France, after all, and the evening was just getting started for the young.   The streets were calm. Nothing felt threatening.  Dave, as always, strode ahead with purpose.  And I hustled to keep up.  And tried to keep my lower lip from trembling. I was so done.

And then we opened the door, and there it was.  The loveliest apartment we have seen so far.  What a grand, soothing, much-needed surprise. ❤️

A sweet little living room. A totally functional kitchen.  Two large bedrooms and no shrieking beds. And, most wonderfully, a large bottle of ice water waiting thoughtfully in the refrigerator.  Heaven.  It is close to midnight here and it is still swelteringly hot.

Given that this day began after yet another fitful sleep, and we travelled across Germany and halfway across France on two bottles of iced tea and a couple of Werther’s candies, I think it is fair to say this was one of the most challenging days of my last decade.  And yet, here I am. In Reims.  Safe.  Tired.  And a little proud.

We have four nights here.  Four nights to recover.  Four nights to sleep.  Four nights to find some fabulous French cheese and sit still long enough to actually taste it.  

But for tonight, I am done.

Ever heard of this place?    I hadn’t either.   But this is where the 15 minute delay happened, that led to a cascade of events.   Don’t think I’ll come back here again.  🙄