From Paris to Paradise

We arrived at the 13th-century village of St-Jeannet shortly before midnight, culminating a half-hour drive -- accented with whiplash-inducing hairpin turns and empty roundabouts -- up the mountainside from Nice. As we approached, we could see the vast shadow of the village, a sleeping stone monument that after centuries seemed to have eroded into the Baou. Except for the music and laughter spilling from the café at the edge of the village, all was quiet and very, very dark.

Several times on the train ride down from Paris Gene had told me he wanted to arrive before nightfall, but I hadn’t listened. Now we needed to find the inn -- L’Auberge des Baous -- among this black maze of nondescript buildings. We parked our rental car near the café and set out on foot down the narrow street that split into a half-dozen directions leading who-knew-where.

I was mad at myself. Why had I let an impulsive run over to the film festival in Cannes distract me from getting safely to our inn? Star-struck, I’d chucked caution in favor of eye candy.

Hesitantly, I followed an alley up the hill, and Gene took a path down. I quickly realized I had no bearings and might wander all night through the silent streets. There was no sign of the inn.

Then I heard Gene call, “Lori! It’s here!” I hurried toward his voice and found him standing in front of a dimly lighted four-story building, just steps from the café plaza. Together we walked to the door. An envelope was taped to it. On the envelope was written, “Lorin & Eugene Welcome!”

We tore it open and unfolded this handwritten note:

Hello Lorin & Eugène :)

Sorry we had to go. Just in case we are not back on time when you arrive, here is the code for the door. [A small sketch showed how to work the security lock.] Press the handle down, the door will open. “Philomène” [our room] is at the top floor, so go all the way up to the top: the door on your left is Philomène.

All the restaurants will be opened in the village tonight: “Le Ste-Barbe” has a lovely terrace with a view. For the best pizza, go to “Le vieux four.” For a “homey-feeling” try “La bonne fiangette.” And for a more intimate atmosphere “Le chantegrill” could be the one … They are all 5 mins. max away from each other.

Have a great evening, see you tomorrow for breakfast if we don’t see you tonight (breakfast from 8:30 to 10 a.m.).

à bientôt,
Benoit & Corinne

Our hosts included their mobile phone numbers is case we had any problems.

Again I wished we’d arrived earlier. By now, the restaurants were closed and the view was less than spectacular. Gene and I unloaded our bags from the car, successfully worked the code and headed upstairs. Hauling our suitcases up the several flights, wheels clattering on the tile floor, seemed endless and left us breathless. We were reluctant to turn on a light as we didn’t want to disturb the other guests. We fell into our room, worn out from the long day.

We looked out the French doors to our small balcony at the lights below, orangey specks scattered far and wide. We had no idea where we were. I wondered if again I’d acted impulsively by choosing this place. I didn’t obsess for long as once I lay down on the comfortable bed, I was asleep.

Early the next morning, intense sunlight beckoned us to the doors. I pushed the sheer curtains aside and looked out. For a moment, I thought we’d landed in Oz. The view across the green, undulating hills and down to the blue Mediterranean could only be described in superlatives. All worries that we’d made a mistake coming here evaporated.

© 2009 by Lorin D. Buck