as uncle with the propeller named Karlsson used to say. Having driven out to a more spacious place in the village, we stopped by an old abandoned two-storey house in the shade. We decided to get out of the car, walk and look for this villa that Vanya had booked and paid for.
We walk… Vanya strides ahead, I like Cheburashka with a little rucksack trail along and start falling behind, because we have to go a little uphill, a burning wind blows, nothing to breathe, we have gone into that narrow alley again, I feel my strength leaving me, I shout to Vanya: “maybe it’s time to ask people where this Villa is?” Although I know exactly, Vanya will not ask; I need to “switch my brains to English (at least!),” perhaps they will understand me.
Suddenly I see a man rolling a motorcycle out of his shed, I shout to him “does he know where the villa…?” (and I don’t know the name, I shout to Vanya: “Vanya look at the name of the villa!”) It turns out I am shouting in different directions, the Frenchman with the motorcycle “froze in a coma”… Vanya looks for the name of the villa on the iPad. Then he pronounces the name, the Frenchman came out of the coma, shakes his head, regrets, but does not know.
I feel myself, but badly. I tell Vanya that I will go no further, I will go back to the car, “and you switch on all your fancy gadgets and continue the search for the ‘villa with a pool.’” And we went in different directions. I went back to the car, in a deserted place, and Ivan continued. I sat in the car and cried loudly! Heavy thoughts crawled into my head: “and what if Vanya feels ill now, and what if he breaks a leg, how will I act in such a situation, I will have to sit at the wheel, pull myself together, not lose my composure!”
Time stretches, I sit in the car, I think, I am no longer crying, I remembered that in the thermos there is hot water and in reserve bags of green tea and honey. So one can make tea and sit on the bench by the abandoned house, in the shade. That is what I did. I even spread a little blanket on the bench, created maximum comfort for myself, and when Vanya returned I was already sitting “like a cat on the little bench.” Vanya brought joyful news: he had found both the villa and the owner of the villa, who speaks English, and the right approach by car, not right up to the villa, but there is parking by the church, 200 metres from the villa.
The owner turned out to be a very welcoming elderly Frenchman, informing me that his villa is popular, and even from “Paris itself” a family has now come for a week, for a rest. Our room with facilities turned out to be on the second floor, a separate entrance, from the street one had to go up old stone steps. “And the pool?” — the pool… also an entrance from the street, one has to go up old stone steps. At once an old short joke spins in my head: “the bathhouse, across the road — the changing room!” And there is also a separate kitchen next to our room in a summer extension.
In the room everything is provided: air conditioning, a capsule coffee machine, an electric kettle, teas in bags, sugar. A double bed, clean linen, ironed, starched, smelling of perfume…. 🤔 Yes! — I think, you, Ira, are in France! And France is a country of scents! That is “perfume is a second skin,” as their Coco (Chanel) said. Maybe for Frenchwomen (and not only) it is a “second skin,” but not for me, unfortunately. No, I do not sneeze at scents, I simply become uncomfortable and want to get rid of them as soon as possible. I think, all right, I’ll survive, only one night! And otherwise, dear marquise, everything is fine, everything is fine!”
The owner also added that within a radius of 1.5 km there is a restaurant, and also two cafés. But first of all, for me — a swim in the pool. That is what we did, we swam, lay a little in the sun, having managed to meet the hospitable hostess and the tenants from Paris — with the youngest boy, 12 years old, I swam in the pool and, learning that he studies English at school, decided to practise him and myself in simple questions in English (I was an English teacher). After the third question I understood it was better to relax and not strain the child; he joyfully dived into the pool and swam to his arriving elder sister, whom he had been waiting for very much.
Having changed and gathered our strength we decided to walk through the village, take other roads that the owner had shown us and look for a café or restaurant. We found a café quickly, but it was closed. I started reading the timetable (in French). It turned out we had come early, and it was already about 6 in the evening. Suddenly a car drove up, a madame jumped out and came toward us. I thought that “she’ll open now.” No, she explained that “pardon. Closed for quarantine.”
We go further, we note that the village is charming, old, interesting to look about, and here is a restaurant with a veranda, twined with grapes. We go in in masks. A waiter came out to us: “non, non” (in French) we do not serve, because it is early, come at 20 o’clock, we will open. All right, we trudged on, the heat does not abate, dry, dusty, estates behind stone walls. And here is another café with a cosy entrance onto a terrace, bustle can be heard inside in the kitchen. A businesslike grandma-madame comes out and at once holds out a visiting card, like, come next time, and today we have special service.
Then I thought: “we would at least eat a crust of bread, we are not local people…” What to do, what to do… I tell Vanya that there is a chance of going to bed hungry today, but if he agrees, I can make him tea with honey and even get out of my stores dry biscuits and a little processed cheese. Vanya had no choice but to agree to eat my modest supply. I have placed a photo from our veranda, where we gathered to drink tea with processed cheese. The pool turned out so good! The blue door at the top is the entrance to the room we rented.
