Many Happy Returns

Do we regret anything about our spontaneous decision to leave Provence two days early and return to Chablis by car? No. Not even the bumper-to-bumper traffic we encounter en route? Well, okay, next time we won’t make the mistake of traveling on the last day of a long holiday period, especially if driving north from the south of France.

Two weeks ago, spring seemed far away, but now, signs of the new season are all around us. Climbing roses brighten stone walls in the village, and tiny green leaves soften the woody vines on the hillsides.

We stay in a roomy and stylish AirBnB that comprises the top two floors of a three-story house and includes a small terrace overlooking the river. A narrow cul-de-sac lane leads to our front door, and every time we step outside Dave makes friends with a local feline.

We dine well during our short stay in Chablis: A repeat gastronomic adventure at Au Fil du Zinc, where we enjoy the chef’s inventive creations such as hay-infused (!) artichokes; petit déjeuner at a friendly art café; and an exquisitely crafted meal at Les Trois Bourgeons that almost makes up for excruciatingly slow service.

We have come back to Chablis on a quest, of course, to procure a case of wine unavailable in the US—La Chablisienne Grand Cru “Les Clos” 2019—and ship it to our home. The vintage is the ultimate distillation of time and place, reflecting when the weather began to warm that particular spring, how much rain fell during the summer, even the frequency of clouds. The cost of the wine is reasonable, the shipping too, and for a nominal additional fee we request expedited delivery, hedging our bet that the vagaries of weather and commerce will allow the wine to survive the journey unscathed.

Our quest fulfilled, we depart Chablis for Paris. It is with a sigh of relief and a thrill of anticipation that we exit the Péripherique and glimpse the Seine. As we approach our destination, we text our VRBO host, Jacques (name changed for everyone’s protection). He informs us via a series of curt, bossy texts that we MUST arrive by taxi (not rental car) because there is no street parking. We explain that we cannot arrive by taxi; we will drop Anna off with our luggage at the curb in front of the apartment. Jacques refuses to accept this plan. But we hold our ground. “Okay,” he snaps, “I will meet you.” But when we arrive, he’s not there. We wait, our rental car perched on the sidewalk—two wheels on, two wheels off—for a full 15 minutes.

Jacques finally shows up, a tall, ginger-haired man who gestures at our car and snarls, “I told you, you can’t park here!” (Seriously? If you hadn’t kept us waiting, we wouldn’t be parked here!) Such “pleasantries” aside, we quickly unload our luggage and Dave removes the offending vehicle. Jacques leads Anna up a flight of winding stairs to an apartment whose best feature is its location, a few steps from one of our favorite Paris haunts, the Place des Vosges. After warning Anna not to disturb the neighbors or accidentally lock herself out of the apartment, our haughty host retreats, never to be seen again.

Langdon has already arrived in Paris and we have arranged to meet him at Ma Bourgogne for an apératif. As soon as we sit down, “our” waiter hurries over to take our order. It is a pleasure to see him every time we visit—he is always on duty it seems, no matter what time we stop by—but his constant presence illustrates the long hours demanded by his profession. “When will you get to retire?” Anna asks. He smiles and looks skyward. “In Heaven,” he responds. His tone is light-hearted, but also hints of regret—or resignation? Note: Since the pandemic, waiters have begun demanding fewer hours, so perhaps things are changing. We notice two new young waiters hovering nearby. Waiting in the wings, perhaps.

A visit to Paris always includes pilgrimages to favorite places. Dave has been dining at the family-owned Le Villaret for over 30 years, but Langdon has never been, and it’s high time we introduced him.

More family members arrive, sleep-deprived but cheerful (one niece without her luggage, but it will show up a day later), and the marathon begins. Dave leads everyone on a long march through a maze of left bank streets starting at the Jardin de Luxembourg, proceeding to Saint Germain des Près with a brief halt at Place Furstenberg before a lunch stop at Brasserie Lipp. And that’s just for starters.

Meeting up with family and sharing the delights of Paris is a rare treat worth an infinity of Michelin stars. Each day brings new explorations and lengthy wanderings around Paris.

The best part is being together. (And the pâtisseries. And the architecture. And the cafés on every corner. And…) The worst part is missing the family members who can’t be with us. But they are in our hearts and minds.

Au revoir, Paris. See you next time!

And so our circular travels end where they began, at home. In our case, to a clean house a happy dog*. Two weeks later, a case of imported wine arrives—twelve bottles, each miraculously intact. Every sip transports us to a certain hilltop vineyard and a unique moment in time.

*It took time and effort to find a trustworthy person to stay in our home and befriend our dog in our absence. For anyone else who has a pet and/or isn’t comfortable leaving their home unoccupied, it is worth mentioning that we recommend “Trust My Pet Sitter” trustmypetsitter.com, a newish agency whose team provided outstanding service at a reasonable cost. (Not to be confused with “Trusted Housesitters”, an agency we’d used before but abandoned due to less-than-great experiences.)