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Travelling from Lectoure to Condom was uneventful, except that I missed a turn as I entered the town. So, I sought advice from a cashier at a super market, who in turn sought advice from two other colleagues. Fortunately, there were no customers in the shop at the time and after about 19 minutes of collegial conversation they agreed that they didn't have a clue, but suggested to head for the Cathedral, whose spire was visible and then ask someone there!
I did. In fact, I asked at least three people, each offering different directions and all this in a town like so many others on the way, filled with narrow winding alleyways, dripping and oozing history but not well signed. I felt like that man of indecision who got out of bed each day, hopped on his horse, and rode off in every direction.
Finally, a land mark, in fact a bridge, over which my notes said not cross, but veer right, up one of these alleys and it's on your left. As I did just that, a car from behind tooted, the driver called out "pilgrim"? "Yes", I replied and quickly added "Helene Baron" whose very name had conjured up visions of elegance and fame. "She is my wife!" he declared. Warning bells! Was he a tout? But at this stage I was out of options and accepted his invitation to follow him.
He pushed open (with some difficulty), a full sized wooden gate, which led into a garden with a parasol like tree covering a patio in need of attention. He attempted to enter the house, but without success, invited me to sit under the tree and indicated he would return. Do I sit and wait or leave?
Stay.
The decision to stay was one of the best I have made on the Camino!
After about ten minutes the husband returned with Madame Baron, who in perfectly modulated English said "James you are earlier than we expected but you are most welcome indeed." Madame Baron was all that the name suggested. Short of stature, her slim build carried gently and unhurriedly and her face tanned and attractively lined from perhaps too much sun, under a light grey "helmet" cut hair style. Age? I have no idea. Her husband also of slim build, with the classic French tousled grey hair carefully, almost excitedly, responded to Madame's quiet requests, as she set about preliminary preparations for our evening repast.
Why the details? There was something about this couple that bespoke of a bygone era. I imagined them in a diplomatic posting for the French Government in colonial times, (perhaps Vietnam?) he, the suave and charming aide to the Ambassador and Madame the perfect hostess, entertaining diplomats and military attaches and local dignitaries at dinners and cocktail parties with grace and charm. You have seen such films and read such novels.
The house also, though some-what tired with age and sprinkled with perhaps too many pieces of memorabilia, offered the simple but comfortable welcome of times past.
Madame suggested after a bath, I might like to take myself off to see the features of the town while she continued to prepare the meal. We would, she said, dine at 7.30 and that we would dine as a family- just the three of us. There were two other guests but they were eating out.
I met up with an American couple in town for drinks but declined their offer to join them for dinner- I was indeed looking forward to Madame's meal.
Just after 7.30 I returned to find the table set, muted lighting and gentle music setting the mood. Madame, with meticulous attention to detail, announced we would begin with an aperitif! "Do you drink alcohol?" she asked. "Occasionally and in moderation", I fibbed. She then described a special wine based aperitif. We sipped it as we ate the miniature cherry tomatoes from her garden, little grapes each skewered with a toothpick and held in place with a small square of cheese and some crunchy dry roasted bean, which she explained was popular in its many forms in the area.
The second and third courses were accompanied by a local bottle of red.
All of this is preliminary, or background, to the most interesting feature of the evening: the informed and delightful conversation. Madame carefully translated all that she and I said in English and also what her husband said in French. She spoke of the importance of spirituality in one's life and how her episodic journey along the Camino each year deepens her insights to life and its meaning.
Usually I do not declare that I am a priest as I walk the Camino, unless it seems appropriate. This night I did. I began by asking them did they know of a French group called Marist? Yes, they had but not in detail. The husband used his trusty iphone to Google and learn more. Well I was one of them-, this led to an explanation of why I was walking this second one. They listened with great interest to the story of Wilai. Madame every so often holding her hand up to enable her time to translate.
The following morning as I was leaving, Madame handed me a small knitted scarf with a short note for Wilai. It is indeed a story that resonates.
Jo, who manages and maintains this blog, wrote immediately to thank Madame. So for many reasons the evening with Madame Helene Baron and her husband (sorry she did tell me his name!) was indeed a night to remember.
Jim
- comments
Robert Gray Jim, As you may or may not know, the Nobel Prize for literature has deservedly been given to the Japanese-born, English citizen, Kazuo Ishiguro. As much as I love his writing (Nocturns, Remains of the Day, Unconsoled etc.), your own prose is, and has always been in a class of its own, resonating so well with me as it does. Your most recent post simply confirms what I know. Two Caminos, and all those people encountered on 'the way'; surely there is much for you to do with the writer's pen when you return to Oz. How rich you are in regard to empathy with the human condition. Bob
Wendy Dixon Wonderful story. I can feel the atmosphere and care of Madame. Thanks for sharing, Jim.
Ron Wow!
Patricia Ryan I am enjoying your blogs Jim, I will be sorry when you finish the Camino, Go welll the last steps. Trish Ryan
Joanne Karcz A story that conjures lovely images for me, the reader. And a lovely memory for when you look back on your journey for Wilai.
James Biggs What a wonderful story. An interlude i would have loved to share. Reminiscent of times gone by!
Caroline Matthews Jim, The way you tell of your travels makes me feel I am there also, the narrative is quite descriptive. There is a contented and warm feeling about your adventure and you must have mixed feelings about coming to the end. So maybe a third will be in the pipe-line!! Love the photos also, Caroline.
Noelene Lynette Donovan Oh Jim the most delightful and heart tugging story - so beautifully told. I think instead of walking these long and sometimes circular distances in the future, what about sitting ...and writing of your enlightening and beautiful experiences...a book! with the photographs..oh what a successful end to this arduous but inspiring journey you have taken. come home soon to us.
Veronica Spasaro Dear Jim, this is really "turn the page stuff", and fascinating all the way through. I thought I was reading a novel at times. I felt sure you were going to let us know what the evening repast consisted of. Now I don't think I will be able to sleep tonight! Wonderful though that Madame responded so warmly to Wilai's story. Who knows where that could lead? I do hope you left your card! Veronica
Peter Stuckey Dear Jim, What a beautiful story/experience - the sort of thing that makes it all so special. As you walk the last couple of days into St John you will be able to savour all your times on this Camino. Don't hurry! Peter
Steve Sailah Thank you for a compelling story, Jim. I imagine that night's dinner and Madame's gentle companionship made up for all the aches and pains and loneliness of your camino so far.