Ninon and Me at the Grand Comptoir by Katherine Watt

Author:Katherine Watt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2019-11-07T18:03:57+00:00

Petites Vacances

The entire country of France is suffering from la canicule. Warnings were being issued by people who issue such warnings to stay out of the heat, stay hydrated, stay cool. People with jobs outside were cautioned not to go to work.

I looked at the weather forecasts and there was one small area of the country where the forecasts were more moderate; Bretagne! So St. Malo it was! I booked a small vacation taking me out of the City. I had waited too long to stay for the five nights I had originally intended so decided I would leave on Wednesday and return on Friday night. That way, if I regretted my decision, I wouldn’t be stuck there too long.

Tuesday Philippe asked, “So you go to St. Malo tomorrow?”

“Oui”

“Pour une semaine?”

“Non! Seulement trois jours.”

“C’est parfait! Trois jours.”

I’m not sure why he endorsed the three day option but it made me feel like I was doing the right thing.

The train ride was great. After getting out of the Paris the countryside got greener and prettier the farther away we got. The last thirty minutes of the ride was stunning with every possible shade of green. The trees were lush and the ground covered with thick masses of berry brambles. The train followed the path of a small river and the forested areas broke every mile or so for huge pastures with cows. Tiny farms looked exactly like what I would expect French country farms to look like, an old tractor, some geese wandering freely, chickens cooped, goats and sheep. I was revelling in the magic of my mini break.

We arrived at St Malo station. It didn’t look like much, but train stations rarely do. I was in voiture 1. I grabbed my rolling suitcase and deboarded. It was a long train. Voiture 1 was the closest at Gare Montparnasse, but the farthest in St. Malo; about 40 voitures far! On the barren (and long) voie running alongside the train it was hot. But the station was small and the taxi queue was right out front, sans taxis. I was number three in line.

The longer we waited, the hotter it got. Customer number two had a cat in a pet carrier who grumbled and howled and meowed unhappily. Finally a taxi came and customer number one was off. After a hot and howling ten minutes Monsieur le chat finally was off on his way. My turn came after another seven or so minutes.

“Le Grand Hotel des Thermes” I told the driver.

The taxi skirted the old walled city and headed east. We quickly arrived at the stately old hotel. What a Grand Old Dame she was indeed. Sitting on the oceanfront, the massive building was perhaps the most impressive in St. Malo, short of the old fort, which shamefully I never visited because I didn’t leave the premisses for the next forty eight hours.

A bellman insisted on taking my one little rolling bag and heading toward my room. I protested. “Just tell me the number and I will find it.

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