Last post from Paris

Kaplan voyage of April 2025, last day: it’s Paris, and it’s pouring, supposed to rain all day. When packing I made a calculated decision not to add the weight of an umbrella, a good idea until today. I have to check out of this mingy little room by 11, and my plane is not till 7, my plan being to walk the city all day until airport time. The hotel has no loaner umbrellas.

Ah well. I can go to a café and sit for hours if I want. I’ll undoubtedly get to the airport really early and relax. It will be a long day; we’re supposed to land at 9 p.m. which is 3 a.m. my time. I did not sleep well last night. But Thursday morning, if all goes well, I will be in my own bed.

On Tuesday night I took a sleeping pill and woke at 7, in time to walk with my early bird friend down to the village to buy two baguettes and six croissants for breakfast, a last pain au chocolat and sandwich for me, for the train. A walk in the morning sun, through the winding narrow stone streets of this ancient village, with a view of the entire Luberon valley. Breathtaking.

But oh, excitement, the market was setting up in the shadow of the chateau, and what did I see but tablecloths. One of my goals was to buy a waterproof Provençal tablecloth for the table on my deck. So Lynn and I walked back down half an hour later, and I bought one, bright yellow with flowers. A final purchase to brighten my summer.

It was wonderful to spend time with 3 of the 8 Blin grandchildren, good to note young people have similarities the world over — obsession with phones and screens, the right running shoes and sports logos on their t-shirts. The Gordes house is spacious and bright, full of interesting objets from their world travels, the best part flinging open the heavy shutters in the morning to the sound of birdsong and the wind in the ancient oaks. Les Blin have an amazing life, urban in the vibrant, crowded city of Montpellier, and rural in their retreat just far enough out of the teeming tourist hubbub of Gordes, which was once voted the most beautiful village in the world. Spectacular.

After farewells, Denis drove me to the Avignon TGV station, stopping on the way at a farm stand to buy just-picked strawberries and asparagus. Despite serious health issues in the past, he is still the fierce driving force of the family, keeping everything running. An admirable man, with an admirable wife and partner.

The train left and arrived exactly on time – not quite 3 hours to travel almost the length of the country. I marvelled, looking out at neat green farm fields as we whizzed by, that all the cows were white, like the sheep; the French had colour-coordinated their animals. I remembered which bus to get from the Gare de Lyon to this hotel, pas de problème. I’ve stayed at the Port Royal Hotel a bunch of times, a great location in my favourite quartier, but this time they stuck me in a tiny room at the back, explaining that now, all the rooms facing the street where I used to stay are doubles; this mingy space is the only single in the hotel. It makes me furious once again, the marginalizing of single travellers. However. It’s warm and dry.

I just have to figure out what to do in the rain between 11and 3, when I’ll leave to get to the airport early. I can’t go back to the Jardin des Plantes to say goodbye to my father, as planned. Will have to do so from here. Salut, mon père. Je te remercie encore une fois.

What a trip! Paris the metropolis, the small town of Neuville de Poitou with my new family, the wild youthful city of Montpellier and the beauty and calm of Gordes with my best friend and her family. Last night in Paris, dinner with old friends Suzette and Pierre, who took over Ode’s flat after I left; much talk, over a delicious meal, of the Canadian election and the frightening chaos of the world.

I return laden with riches — memories of beauty, history, and profound connection. Also, among other things, a bright yellow tablecloth, to remind me of this voyage. It doesn’t get better than that.

Except for the @#$@# rain.

A few pix below: the internet is not good here. The view. The market. The girls. What I brought for 3 weeks in France.

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