So because the 100 kilometer restriction ends June 2nd
the Normandy beaches would have to wait.
Instead I booked a hotel in Giverny for the long weekend. In addition my in-laws graciously accepted to
meet us there and take the kids with them so we could finally have some time to
ourselves.
Although the hotel was open when I inquired about the
restaurant I was told it was closed so we would have to pack our own food or
get takeout from the nearest town. I
asked if there was a refrigerator in the room.
There wasn’t.
So armed with quinoa, chick peas, canned tuna, boxed wine,
dried sausages, fruits, and a thermos full of coffee we headed out.
When we got to the hotel we were greeted by an older gentlemen.
He told us that he was 77 years old and that he never would have imagined that
any of this could happen. He said all this through
a poorly fitted mask that he adjusted constantly. He walked away shaking his head.
A younger lady checked us in and I was pleasantly surprised
that we could order breakfast. They
would deliver it to our room in the morning.
Sorry we can’t serve you outside, she lamented glancing at their
beautiful rose garden, but we’re not allowed to. She proceeded to outline some other rules we
would have to follow like a strict path to our room. When I followed her indications the older gentlemen
appeared and beckoned me to take a more direct path. When I hesitated he insisted as though the
simple act of taking another door would make things normal again. I obliged as the younger lady stared at
me.
The room was a lovely blue filled with Monet paintings on
the walls. There were toiletries as
usual along with an addition.
There was also a table in the room so we could have our
breakfast.
That evening we tried our luck and ate our quinoa salad in
the rose garden. The only shooing away was us at the mosquitos which were
huge.
The next morning they came by with our breakfast, the first
meal I had been served by someone else in almost three months.
We saved the bread, cheese, and ham for lunch.
We packed our lunch and headed out into town hoping to find
a nice place where we could have it.
Although completely impractical for a walk on a sunny day, I wore a
black dress that went with the black heels that I had bought before the
lockdown and hadn’t had a chance to wear until now.
I felt nice to be out although I looked a bit ridiculous
with my black dress, black heels, and sunglasses amongst bicyclist and tourist
with their fanny packs and tennis shoes.
Strangely enough I felt more normal than ever. I was tired of limitations. It felt good do whatever it was I wanted.
I had to admit though that my head was getting rather quite
hot due to the fact that I had no way of covering it since I opted not to bring along my misshapen grey baseball cap.
So when I saw a hat shop I put on my mask, squirted my hands with the
hand sanitizer made available in front, and headed in to shop for the first
time in almost three months.
The mask eventually came off though because it’s just not
the same trying on hats when your face is covered by a mask. The other couple in the store and the sales
person didn’t seem to mind.
After I bought my hat we headed back to the hotel because we
realized that sitting down someplace other than the ground was off limits.
That evening, sick of lukewarm quinoa, I headed into town for
takeaway and following my nose found masked chefs barbequing in front of a Michelin
rated restaurant hotel. For under 50
bucks I walked away with goat cheese and mushroom wraps, bbq-ed pork, bbq-ed salmon,
homemade panna cotta with strawberry raspberry coli, and two ice cold rosé ciders.
The next morning we checked out after having had what felt like a real weekend in almost three months. The older gentlemen saw is out, a cigar in
his mouth, mask under his chin.
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