Bon Anniversaire

Venez, venez, vite” Jeanne thrusts the phone into my hand.  “Allemand” she says.  “Je ne peux pas le comprendre“.  I get it. There’s Germans on the phone and she can’t understand them.  As I take the phone, I panic thinking, I can’t speak German.  “Hello” I say hesitantly.  “Oh hi, you speak English, great!  We’re lost, how do we get to your place?”  We are in a tiny mountain village, St Paul D’Oeuil in the South of France. 

It’s my birthday!  That morning, as dawn broke, we set off to do a walk in Luchon.  Now one thing we’ve never got the hang of in France, is managing to arrive anywhere at the right time.  We always find ourselves in a delightful village when all the shops are closed or at the bottom of a mountain with no telecabines working. It looks as if we have done it again.  Our ‘French Dilemma’ we call the time between twelvish and twoish when everything closes. 

Our plans to buy the newspaper, have a leisurely coffee and then head up the mountain are abandoned. Instead we hastily pack lunch into a backpack and leap onto the telecabine, with two minutes to spare before it closed.

We have no idea what is at the top of the mountain.  We see mountain bikers hurtling down the bottom slopes and so assume, oh so wrongly, that it’s not very high.  The telecabine, swings its way upwards.  Just as I think we've reached the top it lurches onto a new system and up we go again.  By the third steep ascent we are surrounded by cloud and I am looking doubtfully at my shorts!

It is magical, mysterious and cold.  Far below is a town milling with tourists blissfully enjoying 35 degrees.  We've entered a whole new mystical world, tranquil and cool.  Clouds swirl by, one minute offering a tantalizing view of snowy peaks and the next an eerie misty curtain.

We discover a huge hotel, ski lodge and a couple of bars.  Ah!  “Une Grande Crème and une noisette s’il vous plait.” There are deckchairs arranged to take full advantage of the now non existent view.  I find myself giggling, it’s really crazy.  

We decide not to be put off by the fact that there is no view and that we don’t have a clue where we're going.  The path looks clear.  After a few moments we hear a strange sort of grunting noise.  

A family looms into view.  It’s bizarre!  They're English and they are trying to fly a kite.  No wind and on the sheltered side of the ridge, but still they persevere. 

We have lunch, we watch the cows and they watch us!

Finally the cloud becomes lighter, the sky blue and the whole vista is before us. 

We walk for a couple of hours, loving every minute.  Our trip back down is just terrifying as now we can see clearly just how high we are and what a steep descent it is.  Phew!

               

An effusive welcome greets us at Maison Jeanne. We love the lovely stone cottage and huge flowering garden and we love Madame Jeanne.  In minutes our bottle of champagne is on ice and we are enjoying a shower. When we venture down the creaky old stairs “Bif", the dog, comes bounding up to greet us.

Jeanne has set up a table in the garden with flowers and little bowls of goodies.  She's also booked us a table for dinner at the next village and scoffs at our caution at drinking and driving!

Just as we settle down to relax  Jeanne comes running into the garden with her "German" problem and hugs me effusively after I have finished on the phone.

Within minutes they arrive.  They eye our champagne and yummies but before we can say "Come and join us", Jeanne has whisked them away to their room.  She comes back 'tut tutting'  

"No don't share with them." She sniffs, obviously NOT her favourite people.

A few minutes later, Bruno comes rushing anxiously into the garden, explaining  "My wife who is hungry, must eat NOW!"  I tell him we're going to a restaurant in the next village.  He nods his head, turns and rushes away.  We see him usher a distracted looking woman into a flashy sportscar and they roar off... in the wrong direction.

We settle down once more to our champagne only to be interrupted by Madame Jeanne who respectfully introduces us to Pierre (from Paris in a whisper).  He is very suave and gently nods his head in greeting.

He nods, approvingly at our choice of champagne. We laugh and tell him that it's my birthday.  "And where will you eat tonight." He asks.  We look to Madame Jeanne who in a painfully small voice gives the name of the restaurant.  He's horrified.  "Non, this cannot be!"  He sends Madame Jeanne off to find the telephone directory (well it is France!) and within moments he has booked us into "a superb" restaurant only moments away.  At this point the German couple return looking flustered.  No they couldn't find the restaurant.  Pierre smoothly tells them he will book them into a "superb" restaurant.  "No! No!" Bruno exclaims almost angrily, "We must eat now, my wife she is hungry!"  

We leave them to it. We go upstairs to get our things and by the time we return the convoy of cars awaits us.  Madame Jeanne anxiously bids us all "Bon Soir" and we are off.  What a trip it is!  We squeal around corners, take sharp right hand turns up the mountain and then hurtle down again.  After about fifteen minutes we start to climb up, and up and up.  As the road climbs the road narrows and the few lights of civilisation are left behind.  

We are there!  A tiny doorway leads us into 'La Ferme d'Espiau" A rustic restaurant where the waiters greet us enthusiastically - especially Pierre de Paris.  I'm starting to wonder if he owns the place!

Not too many people, but I guess that road would put anyone off!  Bruno and "my wife who is hungry" have disappeared and don't return until half way through the meal.


We're seated, wine is served, as is a wonderful soup with crispy French bread. Pierre comes over to recommend the "Cote du Boeuf" but I'm well satisfied with local mountain trout.   When Pierre's beef arrives - its  huge chunks of bone with rare meat overlapping the the plate, so we smiled at our good choice.  (Tried to get a surreptitious photo).

The meal is great fun, the Germans eventually join us as do the waiters and Pierre (briefly).  A great night to remember - but we never did learn the name of "My wife who is hungry!"