Next day we drive north and take a look at a couple of potential places for visits next year and then I am back at the quietly swish chateau hotel near Sarlat that we shall use for three nights. This is a wonderful establishment, as it is an oasis of calm and friendly service combined. The staff seem genuinely pleased to see me again (well I was only here 6 months ago, so they didn’t have much time to forget and most of that time they were closed anyway). Anyway I am bien installe in the small room that I had last time (don’t these people realise that I am to be greatly sucked up to?).
GREAT BLANK SPACE HERE IN FRANCE – it went well – except I had too much totally delish white wine the first night (which I rarely drink, the white that is) and it had a tres debilitating effect on ma systeme, which was the Gulf War being re-fought in my stomach and was up from 0200 as unable to lie down (never knew the human frame could burp at such Olympic levels and even several A Zeltzer did not do the trick) so copped out of going out next day (which meant I missed one of the best lunches we offer .. boo hoo…). And it bloody rained most of the time too. But did manage to force un peu de foie gras down my throat next day and it is just luvly – I don’t think about the poor geese who are put on a high calorie diet to achieve this – I just enjoy the end result, which if it’s any consolation to them, is equally high calorie.
Now up on Air France Paris – Tunis – what another cozy flight, along with some nice Tunisian infants to add ethnic wails (and to tell the truth, they all sound the same – it’s the level of parental involvement that varies — here I am beginning to think that they are encouraging them…) Anyway, the purser lady is a wonderful specimen of the old school – comes down and uses full sentences, rather than the French equivalent of “chicken or fish?” She practically goes into a full description for each person and thanks them profusely and smiles a lot and she is of course a dying breed. She also has a wonderfully French nose to go with it and it looks like it can be used most productively at the cheese counter wherever she lives, to sniff out the ripest and best Camembert. Just a pity the hot food they give us, in the huddled masses cabin, has been reduced to the much mass produced and then frozen variety. A few years of South African Airways catering taught me what that looks like and boy, this ain’t fresh. One giveaway (for those of you who may be remotely interested (and Vera you can skip this ) is that the foil is hermatically sealed (cos its going to be VERY deep frozen and we don’t want the contents drying out) and also it will have a mass of numbers and other symbols on the top, which are known only to a maker (and possibly God, but the latter is unlikely). Anyway, we shall survive and I asked for a second small bottle of nice Bordeaux and even indulged in a mini of Poire Williams, which is kinda close to nectar and v expensive to buy and AF still gives it to the masses, which is more than kind.
Had a fun ride to Bordeaux airport earlier with the agent guy, Bertrand and his assistant, who although as mentioned earlier, is a plain jane, she has great spirit and sense of humor, so now that it was all over, the plane has gone and they belong to one of my con-freres, so we can relax. He was off to a wedding reception tonight – old friends who had lived together for years and produced a family and had suddenly decided on her 50th birthday that they would get married, so it was going to be a nice middle-aged bash. Funniest thing was that the conversation became tres risque, as he admitted that several of his old girlfriends from his wayward younger years would be there and when pressed, by his assistant and NOT me, as we are en france and they talk about such shocking matters so openly, it was she who delved deeper into his murky past. He cheerfully admitted that he had probably over his formative years, slept with about twenty of the now middle aged women who would be there. I just could not imagine having that conversation outside France and the nice thing is that it is all water under the bridge now, but we had a good time rigging him about it. He is anyway now a happily married 40 year old with 2 small kids that he dotes upon, as I had many conversations on the mobile phone and I even managed to do the ordeal of talking to a small slightly dumbstruck French 6 years old child, talking to a stranger in French and she pronounced me afterwards as being tout OK, so seems I have a 6 year old fan in Aix en Provence.
Driving to Bordeaux, we were in the middle of all the vineyards – just miles and miles of neatly pruned gnarled vines, each with one regulation shoot being allowed to aim along the wires towards its neighbor. Hard to imagine how wonderful they will look in 3 months’ time. In the small villages and towns en route, they had been hard at work pruning, which is almost too gentle a word, the plane trees in each market square. Seems they leave it until the spring weather is coming in and then go to work and really butcher these poor trees – they all look terribly unhappy and much abused and must be in a total state of shock -no fun being a tree in the main square en france. Just a tall mass of stumps. However that’s the way things are done around here and who am I to complain? The result will be nice round trees to give shade to the boules players later on.
And now I am in Tunisia. Back in my old stamping ground from 1967 and 68. I am HOME !
timothyvalentinestravels 