SAVED!

I am so happy to be where I am right now.

Last night, after a long day at L’Esquinade, I returned to Le P’tit Club. Stephen had cleaned everything while I was gone and I felt guilty that I had so much stuff scattered about (of course, it’s difficult for me to be tidy when I have to leave silently & quickly at 8am when the dog gets up for fear of waking him up, and I don’t get to sleep until 5am when he leaves to faire le fête à St. Tropez). Then he told me that Tequila couldn’t sleep in the room with us. All I could think of was how she cries when she has to sleep alone, especially when she knows there are people nearby whose company she can keep. But what could I do? It’s his room.

Sylvia had called me while I was at the beach and invited me for a drink at the house. Why not, right? But as I went to leave the bar and head to Chez Michel, I realized there was nothing I could do with the dog. Stephen didn’t want her in his room, the middle room (where I usually put her) had to stay open, and she couldn’t roam around the bar freely because there were two very large, aggressive black dogs hanging out with one of the customers. I had no choice – I walked up the mountain with my dog by my side.

When I arrived, Sylvia and her family had just finished eating dinner. “Oh! We were hoping you could eat with us!” We had wine instead.

She asked me what I was doing and I told her I worked at the bar by the campground. We chatted about the job, mostly in English but also in French (Alain, her husband, does not speak English, nor do her two girls), and finally she asked me, “You make good money?”

Hah. No. I work for free. “I don’t make any money.”

“You mean you work only to earn the right to stay there?”

“Well, yes. But I’m not complaining; I have fun.”
And I had told her husband earlier that I slept on a couch there because there wasn’t enough beds for us all; in fact, one of the men sleeps in a tent in the back on the hard ground every night – rain or shine. This is where he told her that.

“No.”

She said it with such certainty, I wasn’t sure how to respond. “Well, yea – I work to stay there on a couch for free.”

“No.” She repeated, with the same defiant tone. “Not anymore, you don’t. You sleep here in a bed in your own room with your dog and you don’t work there like a slave.” And then she spat out this tirade about how there is so much money in this area and this is what people do – make people, especially foreigners, work for free and treat them like slaves by making them stay in unsanitary conditions and not feed them and this that and the other thing… “You will stay here.”

Twist my arm.

“And we will drive you down right now to pick up your suitcase.”

Again, if you insist.

And so off we went, and Alaine put all my bags in the car and he drove off. Tequila stayed at Chez Michel. I hung out with my Dutch friends (one of whom I especially adore – he is very smart and funny, with dark hair and striking blue eyes and a handsome face… and I really like his girlfriend. I’m just striking out with men all over the place. C’est la vie, huh). And after I spoke enough French, cleaned enough glasses, and had enough to drink – I came home. That’s right, I went back to my little room in the attic suite of my family house. I slept in my sheets instead of on a couch or in a stranger’s bed, with my clothes folded neatly in the bureau instead of tossed in a suitcase, and I woke up just before 9 (as always) to my beautiful view, instead of the sterile and foreign walls. God, it felt good. I love this place. And I'm so happy Sylvia was kind enough to let me stay.



I had a lovely breakfast with Sylvia and her family. We went to the crique, the five of us and the two dogs, and we came back to meet the rest of their company and have lunch. And now I’m sitting on the familiar orange couches in the sunroom, enjoying the Mediterranean cross breeze as it sweeps through the house, with not one but two large pups at my feet.

I don’t want to wear my welcome out too much, so I will go to Cogolin for a couple of nights before returning here Thursday or Friday. And then that’s it. I won’t be displaced again for the remained of the time that I am here.

It’s like breathing a deep sigh of relief. I’m home, I’m speaking French, I’m with family. What more can you ask for?