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21 Connoisseur Dog There wasn't much traffic along N98. Better to appreciate the stunning views. At a boulangerie we bought baguettes and ate in the park. Fantastic. I loved those fresh out of the oven hot bread. It felt good to be back in France--and not just because of the cheap chocolate. It was so calm and systematic compared to the other countries we had visited. I overhead someone describe Italians as "just happy Frenchmen," but I doubted I would find many takers of either nationality that would agree with that assessment. The French call the Italians "Macaroni." It wasn't true an Italian was just a happy Frenchman; there were both subtle and not so subtle differences. In Saint Raphael we phoned Hélène and Paul and then cycled to their home in the medieval town of Les Arcs. When we arrived, Hélène was busily packing in preparation for their anticipated move back to Canada. She handed us a pile of books to read. With the cost of shipping, they wouldn't be taking anything back with them that they hadn't deemed as absolutely necessary. The Canadian dollar had been worth seven francs when they moved to France. Twelve years later it hovered near three and a half. Over the winter Paul had been sick with bronchitis. He had been in the hospital for two weeks and still looked drawn and peaked. At seventy-five years of age he wasn't a spry man anymore. (Hélène, in sharp contrast, was a young looking fifty year old.) With his cackle, and without his teeth, he reminded me of Walter Matthau. An avid historian, Paul did his best to fill in the gaps in our European education with places, names and dates. He told us the Francophones were still living in the heydays of Louis XIV. Paul had fought in France as a young man during World War II and it had been his lifelong dream to live there. Having done that for the past twelve years he was looking forward to returning home to Canada. Their dog, Whiskey, was like a well-behaved spoiled rich kid. For supper, we had three types of paté, with bread and wine. So did Whiskey. "Give him some Rosé. I think he'll like it," Paul said. "But it's not cold," Hélène responded. Whiskey was a connoisseur dog. |
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