Travels to France.

Poitou Charentes, France

July 22nd

Dear Reader,

In Paris, the weather was sunny and breezy. The hotel we chose was located in the 6th arrondissement, just steps from the famous La Coupole restaurant where personalities like Hemingway and Jean Cocteau once hung out.

We dined there, and then stopped in at La Rotonde for a tea and dessert. We read in the menu that such artists, dancers, singers, and writers like Modgliani, Nijinski, Jacques Prévert, and Chagall spent time there.

“I like this even better than La Coupole.”, I said to Adrien. Indeed La Rotonde has an intimate vibe that is lacking at La Coupole. La Couple is open, and all the tables are exposed to see and be seen. At La Rotonde one could be ensconced at a private table for a “dîner en tête á tête” and feel completely alone in the busy restaurant.

Above: La Coupole; Below: La Rotonde.

The hotel was called the Academy and Arts hotel. The decor was arty, inspired by Picasso, Chagall, and Matisse.

Monsieur and I arrived in the evening on Monday. It was no small task to get to Paris from the Calchaqui Valley.

We departed San Martín on Friday morning leaving Ramona in the good care of Ines and her family. Leaving her is always hard for me. She waited by the car, expecting to be lifted up onto the seat when the engine of the truck started.

Instead we told her to take good care of the house. She understood and put her tail between her legs. Inés scooped her up and carried her inside.

We dropped off her bag containing a brush, shampoo, a leash and collar, and food, at Ines’s house on our way out. One of her daughters came to collect it. She wore a crop top that said: “Don’t be afraid” in Spanish, and pajama bottoms with a floral pattern.

From there, we went to Cafayate where we stopped at my dentist’s office, and onward to Salta. In Salta, we saw a few friends before boarding our plane on Sunday afternoon for Buenos Aires.

The World Cup was playing while we were in the air.

“The score is 0-0.”, the captain reported.

“Vammoooosss!”, a man called out from somewhere in the plane.

When we landed the match was still going on. A throng of people had gathered in front of a big screen in the center of the airport where the match was being streamed. We joined the crowd to see the final moments of the game.

Argentina lost.

The scene at the airport.

“You can’t win every game.”, I overheard a mother saying to her son.

The boy’s face was downcast and disappointed.

“But it’s not fair, Mom.”, he said.

“That’s just life, Sweetie.”.

He sighed, and laid his head on her shoulder.

More to come.

Saludos,

Mariah