Saturday night, after I dropped the last visitor off at the airport, I turned the sign on the door, so to speak. Despite the fact that I still seem to have a straggler on the couch, this guest house is "now closed for the season" and life will return to normal, whatever that is.
I always have mixed feelings about this moment of the year when there are no more expectations of friends coming to visit or new travels on the immediate horizon. It's exhausting but at the same time a grand gift to have a revolving door that deposits so many wonderful people in my foyer or sends me to so many fabulous places to visit them. However, this year I'm done. Worn out. Definitively finished. I've been drained…literally!
I've spent the last two weeks with my dear friends and fellow troublemakers from our London days.
Tourista (in French)…otherwise know as Montezuma's Revenge, Turkey Trots, Delhi Belly or you may fill in the blank here with whatever name you find amusing ___________. The fact is, it wasn't.
Two of us fell ill while in Morocco and our fear was that we wouldn't be able to get back, but a break in the action lasted just long enough to get back to France, where it started all over again in full force. So there we were, 4 women locked in my little apartment (thank god it has 2 toilets), no escape. Periodic sorties for more toilet paper and nourishment were all we could manage and by the end of their trip, my friends had managed to see:
1. A couple of streets in Aix en Provence
2. Fes, Morocco
3. The inside of my apartment with a special concentration on the bathrooms.
My poor girls. My poor stomach. This is a really SHITTY way to lose a couple of kilos. And one should never lose kilos on a trip to the south of France. I believe it's forbidden, actually.
So we talked, we laughed, we cried, we watched Gone With the Wind all the way through. We attempted meals. We gave up. We stepped over each other and on each other. We discussed our gastrointestinal systems to no end. Potty humor became our means of survival. We napped. We talked some more and laughed and cried all at the same time. And we had a wonderful time. Really.
My living room on a normal day
My living room after 4 days locked inside
My bedroom after the same 4 days of confinement
and most especially this!
Next year I think we'll go to St. Tropez!