There is something about packing to leave on a trip that makes me home sick.
Before I have even left and said my good byes, I have no interest in going, living out of a bag and doing things that divert from the life I enjoy during the every day.
It is at this time I daydream about the good and bad of my pre-conceived notions; what I think things will be like in the place to be visited – the romantic and the anxiety inducing.
Fortunately when it comes to travel in France, my pre-conceived notions are largely romantic – fresh buttery foods, people necking and holding hands on every corner; a historical monument their backdrop, and family buzzing with the soft whirl of their French accents.
I rarely expect my thoughts to become reality on either end of the spectrum, so you can imagine my surprise and pure delight when one of my most stereotypical daydreams came to life over and over again - on the streets of Paris, the
boulangeries in Avignon and in the markets of the Dordogne.
This dream come true is the baguette.
A soft airy “treat” I imagined was only indulged in daily by visitors who have ditched their diets for some vacation eating, it turns out that the baguette is for everyone, for all meals and truly a part of eating in France.
Starting in the early morning as the mist lifts off the grape vines, baguettes can be seen tucked under the arms of eldery gentleman out for a stroll and busy mothers, rushing their kids to the Local School, balancing book bags and chic shoulder bags, and a long warm baguette teetering ominously as they kiss
les enfants good bye.
And then as the day comes to an end and the hoards of fashionable business men and woman pour out onto the streets, baguettes are swept up and added as an accessory to the consumers already perfect ensemble. Lipstick is left uninterrupted as a bite of baguette is torn off before even leaving the store; the cell phone put down just long enough to enjoy its crusty outside and tender center.
On our last day in Paris, Mr. S and I had a picnic planned for our hotel bedroom – fresh cheese, luscious fruits and indulgent treats. The only thing left to pick up was the baguette. As we wandered through the streets with tourist eyes and hearts ready to head home, we started to notice that the shelves were empty, the bakers packing up and not a baguette to be found. We quickened our pace and even decided that a baguette from the local grocer would suffice…we got panicked, a little more homesick and wondered what our pounds of cheese would taste like without the blanket of baguette to swaddle them.
And then out of the corner of Mr. S’s eye was a single shelf, still boasting the baguettes we were coveting. The shop was closed, but Mr. S was persistent and kindly request
"Une baguette, s'il vous plait." The baker looked, nodded and awarded us not one but two baguettes,
“Gratuit”
Turns out that my grandest daydreams did not touch the truth of this experience.
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