Taking the Wrong Road

 

Sometimes the wrong road is the best one.

On our regular country change from Switzerland to Southern France, Rick and I were so engaged in chatting about our writing that we missed the turnoff. 

Rather than backtrack we continued. At lunchtime we decided to follow the Rhône to a village to find a restaurant. On the way we passed The Cite du Chocolate. As much as we would have loved to go in, we put it on our bucket list for when Sherlock isn't with us. 

The lovely shaded parking area in Touron-sur-Rhône, was almost full but we pulled into a place. The car in front of us had a couple who seemed to revel in ugly faces and stood in a way created trouble to fill our own space until they moved on.

Several restaurants were across the street.

We chose Bistro St. Joseph. "Deux personnes et demi," a red headed kid who would be at home on the streets of Ireland said, "Two and a dog." Later conversations revealed he never formerly studied English, had never been in an English speaking country, did not have anglophone parents, but taught himself through music, movies, TV and reading. 

Once seated on the terrace a waitress first appeared with a dish of water for Sherlock, then took our orders.

My ravioli was the best I ever had. Slivers of Parmesan and generous mozzarella, a little balsamic vinegar and unidentifiable spices made me want to lick the bowl, but I resisted.

Around me were other dinners. Three tables featured grandmas. 

The one closest had a very wrinkled woman, with white hair and well dressed. Her fingernails were polished in red. She didn't look that happy. A young girl ate with her, chatting away. The old woman, who may have been younger than I am, also had ravioli, but hers were plain. When they left the young woman helped her with the cane.

At another table, the older woman was probably in her sixties. The younger couple with her may have been her daughter, considering how much they looked alike. With wedding rings, I assumed the man was the young woman's husband. They were having a wonderful conversation full of laughter. I wish I could have heard it.

The third was an older couple. When the man stood up to go inside (toilet, pay bill?). As he walked by the woman, he dropped a kiss on the top of her head which produced a huge smile. They wore matching wedding rings. They radiated happiness.

Rick suggested walk along the river before we drove the last four hours. The river, vineyards, boats, trees were all beautiful. The temperature was perfect. 

We came across a sign commemorating the 100th anniversary of the first suspension bridge in France, designed by Marc Seguin. Then we found his statue. What a handsome man.

 

As we walked back to the car, we heard music. Remember we were in the Ardeche, France. 

We knew the song well. We listened to it until we got into the car. 

And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know 
Wo wo wo
God bless you, please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray 
Hey hey hey, hey hey hey

We'd like to know a little bit about you for our files
We'd like to help you learn to help yourself
Look around you all you see are sympathetic eyes
Stroll around the grounds until you feel at home

And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson,
Jesus loves you more than you will know
Wo wo wo
God bless you, please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey