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Our first French Christmas, part eight…

Our hosts at Au Miracle du Pain Doré were out in the vineyards when we arrived at their gite the second time, so they left the front gate unlocked and the keys by the front door. Checking in was simple, especially since we’d been there the week prior. Bill was pretty rattled about the car and even worried the people who punctured our tire might have even put something on the car to track it. Fortunately, they were complete amateurs. We found nothing on the car and it was totally safe outside of the gite, under a streetlamp.

Bill went to the supermarket, which was within walking distance of the gite, and picked up essentials for Friday night’s dinner and Saturday’s breakfast. The next morning, he got to work on reporting the crime. First, he called USAA to tell them about the tires, which apparently weren’t covered on our policy. Even if they had been, we have a $500 deductible, and today is New Year’s Eve. USAA took down our info and Bill later got a call from the German USAA liaison working out of Frankfurt, who was sympathetic.

Next, he called ADAC (German auto club) to ask about where to locate tires. He went to two places on Saturday. One couldn’t help at all. The other “fixed” the tire by patching the sidewall and advising us not to go further than 100 kilometers. Germany is, of course, much further than 100 kilometers from Beaune. Still, he made it so we could at least drive around the city if we needed to. The hole in the tire was near the tread, but still in the sidewall. We learned that driving on a patched sidewall, especially at high speeds, is a recipe for disaster. Bill is usually super safety conscious, but I think he was worried about getting home for work. Fortunately, good sense prevailed and he axed the idea of trying to drive on the patched tire.

Our poor tire.

ADAC was very communicative and helpful. They called us a few times to coordinate where to find tires. Yes, that’s right. We had to buy two of them, because French law dictates that unless you find the exact same brand of tire, you must buy two tires that match per axle. We couldn’t find a single Pirelli brand tire that was damaged on the Volvo, so we had to buy a pair of Bridgestone tires. That was 470 euros yesterday, when we finally found a place that had them in stock.

Bill then went to the local police station in Beaune, where he was told by the one English speaker working there that he’d have to go to the Gendarmerie, since the crime hadn’t happened in Beaune proper. So Bill drove the Volvo to the Gendarmerie office and spoke to two sympathetic but non English speaking ladies who used Google Translate to take his statement. They seemed shocked and relieved that we weren’t robbed and told Bill that there are gangs of people doing this… not just in France, but in places all around Europe. Hell, I think it happens in the States sometimes, too. It’s a well-known crime that probably doesn’t get reported as often as it happens.

Since it was clear we weren’t going to be able to leave Beaune on Sunday, as we’d planned, we asked the owners of the gite if we could extend our reservation. Much to our surprise, they let us stay Sunday night free of charge! That was really nice of them and completely unexpected.

Unfortunately, due to all the time spent running around Beaune trying to get the tire mess sorted out, our plans to shop were thwarted. But France doesn’t totally close down on Sundays the way Germany does, so we were able to get a few bottles on the “Lord’s day”. We walked into downtown Beaune and Bill bought a few nice bottles from one of many wine shops in Beaune. Then we stopped at a cafe and had a glass as the sun went down. Yes, it was cold, but they had outdoor heaters going… and Arran was mostly good until he met a female bulldog in a pink jacket who apparently said something he didn’t like. He raised a little ruckus, but everybody just laughed at him and kept drinking their wine or coffee. It was kind of nice not to be scowled at. Here are some pictures from the weekend.

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Our first French Christmas, part seven…

December 26th was our last full day in Nimes. Audra was pretty much free all day after the morning. We could have gone to see the sites, but really, I just wanted to hang out and chat. I live a pretty isolated lifestyle these days, and it was so nice to talk to someone who has known me since way before electronics. Besides that, having the dog kind of cramped our style a bit.

Don’t get me wrong. I think Arran made a lot of friends on our trip, and I am so grateful that we brought him with us. For instance, I think Arran may have played a part in us not being robbed the other day. But although he is a good traveler, I do worry about him being a good guest and not bothering people. Even though he’s about ten years old, he’s not above howling a lot or the occasional accident.

So Audra, Bill, Cyril, and I did more walking and talking… until Cyril started looking a little under the weather and bowed out. We still had good food, though. For lunch, we had fougasse, which is a delightful pastry filled with bacon and cheese. Reading up on fougasse, I see that it’s a specialty of Provence, although it’s also featured in other regions. Audra says some versions are sweet and some are savory.

For dinner, we had roasted pork loin and more root vegetables– carrots and parsnips– and lots of wine. The cheese lovers had their course, too. Cheese is another food I wish I loved more, although my ass sure doesn’t need the help. It was really a great day, with yet another walk around the neighborhood and more reminiscing about the old days… and more wine.

We decided not to visit on Friday, the 27th, because we had made arrangements to be in Beaune between 3:00 and 4:00. In retrospect, maybe it would have been better if we had taken more time heading north. Maybe if we’d said goodbye to Audra and Cyril on Friday morning instead of Thursday night, we might have missed the bastards who fucked up our tire. But at least checking out of Chez Pepito was relatively easy, aside from the lack of parking in the area. We just put the keys back in the lockbox and got on our way. I did get some cool photos on the way up, too. Too bad I didn’t get any of the jackasses who spiked our tire.

Our drive to Beaune was mostly uneventful until we got to the rest stop just south of the city. It was well-connected, with several fast food restaurants, a bathroom, a gas station, and even a shower. You’d never think scumbags looking to do harm would hang out at such a well-traveled place with so many visitors. But unfortunately, there they were, and they had us squarely in their sites.

We stopped at the rest stop only so we could tell our hosts we had arrived and so I could pee. In retrospect, I really wish we had just kept going and called from just outside the front door, like we did when we came in. Our stop at the rest area has so far cost us over 1400 euros. We had to buy two new tires; Bill has missed two days of work; and although the first gite owners gave us a free night, we’re paying another 120 euros for tonight at La Maison de Maurice.

For those who don’t want to read my other vents on this subject, here’s a quick and dirty recount. After I got back into the car post pit stop, a swarthy looking guy stepped out in front of Bill as he was driving out of the lot, forcing him to stop. We think this is when his accomplice punctured our tire and ruined a perfectly good pair of wheels. I say “pair” of wheels, because in France, one must purchase tires in sets of two if there isn’t a tire identical to the one being replaced. So both of our rear tires, just six months old, had to be replaced. It cost almost 500 euros. Such a waste!

Ultimately, the fuckwads who did this didn’t get anything for their efforts. They weren’t able to rob us. I suspect they saw Arran and me and changed their minds about shaking Bill down for money or relieving us of our luggage. Also, Bill immediately got on the phone instead of going for the jack. I think the guys who were doing this must be amateurs.

ADAC told us to call 112, which is equivalent to our 911. A highway assistance guy came and put the spare on… the little donut tire that comes with most new cars these days. We weren’t allowed to drive it on the French highway, but we were headed to Beaune anyway. We went to our gite and decided what to do next. More on that in the next post.

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Our first French Christmas, part six…

We slept late Christmas morning, mainly because we didn’t bring presents to open. Audra and her family exchanged gifts while we had breakfast in our gite. Then we went to their house for lunch, which was being hosted by Cyril’s charming and very French parents. I had made a couple of baskets to give to our hosts. One was for Audra and Cyril and had some German, Polish, and southern/Virginia delicacies in them. The other was for Cyril’s parents, in which I skipped the Virginia delicacies.

Cyril’s mom’s face lit up as she uncovered the little gifts in her basket. I included a couple of star shaped bottles of liqueurs from Wiesbaden, a wine stopper and beer stein bottle top, gingerbread in a pretty tin, a Polish pottery magnet and Christmas ornament, and a few other things. It was so sweet to watch Cyril’s mom open those gifts and genuinely appreciate them. She gave me a big hug, and even though I don’t speak French and she doesn’t speak English, I felt like I had made a friend.

Then we had lunch… and there on the table were salads loaded with mushrooms. I had just told Audra and Cyril about my “mycophobia” the previous night. Being phobic of mushrooms has caused me so much embarrassment over the years. But Audra handled it perfectly and made me a salad without any fungus. It was delicious, too… with quail eggs, bacon, and a light vinaigrette. I’m going to have to learn to make that salad at home. It’s not the first time we’ve had it in France, and it’s always a hit with me. I need all the hit salads I can get. We also had foie gras, which I gave to Bill. Next, there was rice, and monkfish served with a delightful lemon sauce. And, of course, there was also plenty of wine.

After lunch, we took a walk through the neighborhood, and once again, I was reminded of Texas. Audra says it gets very hot in Nimes during the summer. Maybe it even gets as hot as Texas does.

Cyril made a delicious pot of French onion soup for dinner, minus the usual cheese and bread. It was just what we needed to come down from Christmas Eve’s big spread. I noticed that the meals we enjoyed, except on Christmas Eve, were very simple and served with lots of love and companionship. Bill and I usually eat together when we can, but I get the sense that Audra and Cyril enjoy a lot of fellowship with his family. It’s nice to see and something that more Americans should embrace.

At some point during our trip, I developed an annoying cough that is still plaguing me now. I am hoping we can get home sometime today so I can do some laundry and sleep in my own big, warm bed. Here’s hoping for a phone call from ADAC.

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Our first French Christmas, part five…

On Christmas Eve, Audra and Cyril were busy preparing for the huge meal traditionally served on Christmas Eve in France. Because they were busy with the food and family preparations, Bill and I hung out in Nimes and, after enjoying a lunch of Hawaiian pizza made by a local pizzeria, we walked around the city. It was unseasonably warm, so I didn’t even need a sweater. A small Christmas carnival was going on, and shops were open and blaring Christmas music. I got some pictures of the festivities, as well as a few sites we saw the first time we visited Nimes. I really like it there. It has a laid back Mediterranean vibe, as well as a bullfighting ring. Not that I like bullfighting, per se… it’s just a very cool looking structure. Here are some photos from our walk around Nimes:

I was glad Bill and I had brought “nice” clothes, since the Christmas Eve dinner was more of a formal affair. Okay, so I had to tell Bill to turn his sweater vest right side out, and my dress has been a go to “dressy” outfit since 2010 (God bless forgiving modal and ruching). But I did have new jewelry.

We got to Audra’s and Cyril’s house at about 6:00pm. They were kind enough to invite Arran, too, so their cats went hunting while we hung out. Audra and Cyril built their house right next door to his parents’ house. When Bill and I visited in 2014, we were invited over to Cyril’s parents’ house for lunch. Bill was overwhelmed by their hospitality. Every Sunday, they all gather and eat lunch, visit, and enjoy each other’s company. Cyril’s parents, brother and sister-in-law, and their dog, Merlin, and Juliette joined us for the Christmas Eve feast, which commenced with raw oysters! Bill surprised me by trying and enjoying two of them! Personally, I like oysters… it’s like a taste of Tidewater for me. Audra also had some grilled oysters for the squeamish. They were also delicious.

I didn’t get a lot of pictures of the food, since I didn’t want to be tacky. Here are a few shots I did get. I had to get one of the oysters, right? We don’t see them much in Germany!

Dinner went on until after 11:00pm, then we stayed up talking until almost 2:00am! Audra and Cyril very kindly served as a taxi service for us, so we didn’t have to worry about losing our parking spot in the garage.

Cyril’s parents don’t speak English, but they were very warm and gracious to Bill and me. I can tell that they’ve really embraced Audra and her children as true family. It’s lovely to see. They made us feel like family, too.

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Our first French Christmas, part four…

Monday morning, we got up, loaded up the Volvo, and as we were about to check out, met our hostess– the wife of the guy who had given us the grand tour of the gite we rented. She was very young and charming as she told us about how they’d only recently bought their house/gite. It turns out she’s familiar with Wiesbaden because she studied winemaking near there at Weinbau Geisenheim.

Our hostess had told me in an email that she and her husband were a Franco-German family. Originally, I figured she was German, but after having met her, I think maybe she’s French and he’s German. I don’t know… but she said that the gite was a side business, as they are opening their own winery here in Beaune, having moved from Dijon. Dijon is a much larger city than Beaune is, but if you’re wanting wine, Beaune is the place to be– for making, buying, and selling it. Perhaps in a year or so, the gite will come equipped with a bottle of their very own wine!

We said goodbye and told her we’d see them Friday. Originally, we planned a two night stay, but now it looks like it could be at least another day or two before we can get out of Beaune. We must first locate either a tire or a tow truck.

The drive to Nimes was mostly uneventful, except for some dramatic scenery and traffic in Lyon, France’s second largest city and land of exotic eating. Seriously… everybody raves about Paris and the cuisine scene there, but Lyon is supposedly even more exciting. I wouldn’t know from experience, unfortunately, because the one time we stayed near there, we were in a suburb and ended up eating Moroccan food one night (delicious!) and Domino’s Pizza the next (drunk). Ah well, maybe sometime we’ll get to stay in Lyon proper and have some really fancy French food… as long as it doesn’t have any offal, strong cheese, or fungus in it.

The landscape really changed as we approached Nimes. It started to remind me of Texas. The sky opened up, the land began to look browner and scrubbier, and there were low slung trees and cacti dotting everything. I had arranged to stay at Chez Pepito, which I learned was on the edge of the Arabic quarter in Nimes. The gite supposedly came with a parking spot. Pepito had written to tell me he wouldn’t be able to meet us personally, but gave us instructions on how to find the keys and let ourselves in.

Bill and I visited Nimes in 2014, but it was by train. We stayed in a cheap hotel near the train station… very no frills, but kind of charming. The hotel has since changed hands, so I don’t know what it’s like now.

Pepito’s gite, likewise, was kind of no frills. It was on the second floor (which is really the third floor), and that meant schlepping our stuff up a few flights of stairs. Since the “parking spot” was actually a very tiny garage that would never fit our SUV, let alone a normal sized car, Bill had to go find a parking spot. He dumped our stuff on the ground floor, and I hauled it all upstairs. That was quite a workout for me. I really should call myself the Fatass and Breathless Housewife… I had some trouble getting the door open, because I didn’t realize that two locks, of the total of three on the door, needed to be unlocked.

I contacted Audra and she and Cyril came over to welcome us. Bill managed to score a rare spot at the parking garage a block from the gite (four nights was 52 euros, but our car was safe). Pepito charges 10 euros a day for his spot, but seriously, if you have anything bigger than a Twingo or a Smart Car, don’t bother. Your car won’t fit.

Chez Pepito has another bedroom, but there was a sticky note on the door asking us not to use it. My guess is that Pepito didn’t want us messing it up, since there were just two of us. That’s fine, although we probably would have closed the door to that room anyway. That’s what we usually do when the gite is bigger than what we need. It was a really small room, so we wouldn’t have chosen it over the other one. WiFi worked well and there were plenty of heaters, although they did a poor job of heating the drafty apartment. I’ve noticed the French are very fond of tile floors, which keep things chilly even when there’s heat. Nimes was not cold at all, but that gite was. Fortunately, there were plenty of blankets.

We had a slight mishap within two hours of our arrival. There was a vase of dried flowers on the fireplace mantel (and no, we were not allowed to use the fireplace). Bill got too close to one of the sprigs coming from the dried flowers and the vase fell and shattered. It was on the edge of the mantel and a bit top heavy, so that was an accident that was definitely going to happen at some point. I just wish it hadn’t happened when we were staying there. Anyway, I messaged Pepito to let him know we’d made it and report the breakage. He was cool about it, which was really nice. For that, we left him the 40 euros we were going to pay for the failed parking spot.

Chez Pepito also features a “rooftop terrace”. It’s kind of cool, I guess. One floor up from the gite, you can unlock the door and hang out. There are a couple of loungers and lots of plants. I think it’s probably nice up there during the warmer seasons, although the furniture is a bit worn out looking. I can’t complain, though, since Pepito’s prices are very reasonable. For four nights, I paid about 312 euros before the “parking” charge. Not bad at all! And the gite is only about ten minutes from where Audra and Cyril live, and very close to shops and restaurants, including a huge food market that makes Stuttgart’s Markthalle look puny.

After we settled, Bill, Arran, and I were picked up by Audra and we went to her house for dinner. Cyril made a lovely dinner of duck and pureed celery, and I got to see Audra’s daughter, Juliette, who is VERY French and speaks excellent English. Arran made fast friends with Audra and we all sat up and talked until about 3:00am! It’s been a long time since I last stayed up that late simply chatting with an old friend!

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Our first French Christmas, part three…

Sunday morning, we awoke to rainy skies and wind that made the shutters clatter against the gite. I am not a fan of walking around in rain, but when the skies finally cleared, Bill and I decided to head into town. Arran protested loudly when we tried to leave him alone, so we took him too. Au Miracle du Pain Doré is a very short walk from town, so we enjoyed a good stroll to Beaune’s center. A small Christmas market was going on, and we got to try salami and Bill tried cheese. I was tempted to get some of the salami, but Bill worried about how it would fare during our trip to Nimes. I think if the market is still going tomorrow, maybe we’ll pick some up.

Arran met a couple of dogs who appeared to be truffle hunters. The market actually had a small booth dedicated to truffles and they had pictures of the dogs they use to find them. I don’t get the appeal of truffles at all. I wish I did, since people who love them make them sound so good and worth the money. Unfortunately, most things fungal make me want to run away screaming.

After we walked around, admiring the cheeses, homemade sausages, breads, and mulled wines, we noticed some stores were open, even though it was Sunday. Then, we ended up eating at what, according to Trip Advisor, might be one of Beaune’s worst restaurants. Fortunately, we had a good experience there. The weather wasn’t too bad, so we sat outside with Arran at La Concorde, which offers all meals at apparently most times.

This song was playing at the market. I first heard it on National Lampoon’s European Vacation circa 1985. 80s music was big last Sunday.

I was surprised to read the poor reviews of this restaurant. I had fish n’ chips and Bill had a burger with Epoisses cheese, and we shared a carafe of wine. The waiter was a bit slow to greet us, but he was charming and charmed by Arran. I think a lot of complaints seem to come from a three course deal they offer and confusion over the bill. We didn’t have a problem, although perhaps the prices were higher than they should have been. I was just glad Arran behaved and wasn’t freaking out about the other dog sitting at the table next to us. The French lady enjoying lunch, complete with escargots, was complaining about the bill.

Beaune is very cute, easy to walk, and has lots of food and retail shopping… and I think we’ll be back again, despite the asswipes at the rest stop who fucked up our tire. I noticed some wine stores I wanted to check out last week. Now that we are stranded, maybe we’ll drop in tomorrow… if they’re open this week, too.

Another discovery I made just now is that Aldi has partnered with Trader Joe’s, which I guess must be part of the Aldi group. We got cashews with the Trader Joe’s logo. If Trader Joe’s is in France, it would be worth it just to come back for that. I’m dying for some of their frozen “crack” n’ cheese, which is even better than mine is.

On Monday last week, we checked out of Beaune and made our way to Nimes… what this whole trip was about… to see my friend and “sista” Audra. But clearly, our adventures in Beaune are still going. More on that as the story evolves.

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Our first French Christmas, part one…

Bonjour, faithful readers. I am currently sitting in Beaune, France. We were here in this same gite (holiday home) a week ago, when we were on our way to Nimes to see my friend, Audra. Now we’re on our way back to Germany, and I have arranged to stay at the same house until tomorrow morning, provided we can get out of here due to a misfortune we encountered yesterday at a rest stop. More on that later. For now, I want to start at the beginning and explain how it was that we’ve had a “French Christmas”.

Audra is American, and we met back in 1987, when we were students at Gloucester High School in Gloucester, Virginia. We both had the same journalism and world history classes during the 1987-88 school year. When we met, I was fifteen and she was fourteen. We got to be friendly in journalism class, since it was a course that required collaboration.

It wasn’t just school that brought us together. Our dads were friends back in the day. Both were Air Force veterans who participated in singing groups in Gloucester. Audra and I are also both graduates of Longwood College, now known as Longwood University, in Farmville, Virginia. We didn’t run in the same crowd when we were at Longwood, so it’s only been within the past ten years ago, through Facebook, that we’ve become closer.

Back in May 2014, Bill and I took our third military “hop” from Baltimore, Maryland. He was on “terminal leave” from the Army, just before he retired. We landed at Ramstein and decided to travel through France by train. On that trip, which I’ve chronicled in this blog, we visited Reims, Dijon, a suburb of Lyon, Nimes, and Nice. Then we flew from Nice to Frankfurt, took a quick trip to the Rhein, and flew from Ramstein back to the States. You can find the story of that trip by searching the blog, although I haven’t yet gotten around to reformatting it since I moved my blog from Blogger to WordPress. I will fix those posts when I get home to my desktop computer. When they’re fixed, I’ll link them to this post.

We visited Audra, her then boyfriend, Cyril, and Audra’s kids during that 2014 trip. A few weeks after we got back to Texas, where we were living at the time, Bill got a job in Stuttgart, Germany. We moved back to Europe, and ever since then, Audra and I were hoping to arrange another rendezvous. A few months ago, she and Cyril, who is now her husband, invited us to spend Christmas with them. They even invited our dog, Arran.

Originally, the plan was that we’d stay at their house, since two of Audra’s children were visiting their dad. But since Audra has cats and Bill is allergic, and Arran loves to harass cats, we decided to book another gite in Nimes. Beaune, which is where I am right now, is roughly halfway between Nimes and Wiesbaden. It’s actually slightly closer to Nimes. I had originally tried to find another gite in a different city, but had difficulty finding one that offered what we wanted and was pet friendly. So here we are, once again, at Au Miracle du Pain Doré, a charming apartment within walking distance of Beaune’s lovely center.

Today’s plan was, originally, to go into town and purchase some wine to bring back to Wiesbaden with us. Unfortunately, we were victimized at the rest stop at the northbound rest stop heading into Beaune. We had stopped so I could pee and we could let our hosts know that we were almost at our destination. During what was intended to be a short stop, a lowlife criminal gouged a hole in one of our tires. So, instead of wine shopping and wrapping up what was a mostly wonderful trip to France, Bill is making a police report and trying to come up with a way to fix our car so that it will get us back to Germany. He did manage to get the tire patched, which makes me a bit nervous, since the gouge was on the sidewall. But the other option is to have the car towed home, since the local tire shop did not have the size we need and we can’t drive it with the “donut” tire spare. The closer we get to Germany, the better… I just hope we don’t have a blowout and cause an accident.

I’m pretty sure the asshole who punctured our tire was hoping to relieve us of our dirty underwear. Unfortunately, this scam is rampant in Europe. Pirates linger near high speed roads and damage motorists’ tires, then offer “help” while an accomplice steals purses, electronics, and whatever else they can find. They target tourists, especially those in rental cars. Tourists are more likely to be unfamiliar with the area, loaded with cash and valuables, and eager to accept “friendly” help. They’re also less likely to make police reports and press charges.

We were not robbed yesterday. I think the would-be crook was spooked when I stayed in the car with Arran and Bill got on the phone with ADAC, one of Germany’s auto clubs. He lingered for a moment, then vanished once Bill gave him the stink-eye. Still, he and his maggot accomplice managed to ruin a perfectly good tire that has only been on the car since July, when it was built in Sweden. And though he’s given me a new life experience and a good story for this blog, I am actually a bit concerned about our safety tomorrow. If it weren’t going to be a Sunday, I think we’d wait and try to get a new tire. If you’re the praying type and you don’t mind, please offer up a few kind words for us.

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Another Sunday shopping trip…

Bill and I are taking a road trip to France for Christmas. We’re bringing Arran with us, so we’ll be staying in self-catered places. My friend, Audra, lives in Nimes, and we’ll be seeing her and her family, as well as stopping in Beaune on the way there and back.

I wanted to pick up a few things on the installation at Hainerberg yesterday– stuff like supplies for wrapping Christmas presents and such, and a few groceries, since I felt like making a dessert I hadn’t had in years, a cherry cream cheese pie. So we took the Mini out of the garage and went to AAFES and the commissary. The Mini needed to be driven, since it gets less action thanks to the new car. We ran into one of Bill’s co-workers at the PX, while we were standing in line to pay. Then we picked up our stuff at the commissary, and headed into Wiesbaden for lunch.

I wasn’t in the mood to screw around as we looked for lunch. It took awhile to find a parking spot. It was impossible at our usual garage, which became “Besezt” as we were driving up and down looking for a free spot. We were successful at the next garage, at the Kurhaus. We had to park on the second floor, though, because that garage was also packed. I was a little worried that it would be hard to find a restaurant that wasn’t crowded, but I needn’t have fretted. Little Italy was wide open at about 1:30pm. Better yet, when we walked inside, were immediately recognized and warmly welcomed!

I was impressed by the waiter, who even remembered what Bill had the last time we were there. To put this into perspective, without looking it up on the blog, I don’t even know when we were last there! I guess it was a couple of months ago. Little Italy has become a favorite restaurant, though. The food never disappoints; the service is good and very friendly; and it’s not hard to get in and out of there. Here are some pictures from our lunch.

Our lunch at Little Italy was nice and leisurely. At one point, they cranked up the music by mistake, and the older Germans that were in there with us started laughing. I’ve noticed that Germans seem to enjoy quirky, slapstick humor, and people who act like fools. I think it’s because the culture here is a lot more serious and uptight than American culture is. In many ways, I like it… but I do get a kick out of what they find funny.

Arran was happy to see us when we got home. After we let him out and fed him dinner, he went to lie down in the living room. Bill went upstairs for a moment, then came back downstairs looking a little pale. He said, “For a split second, I could have sworn I saw Arran upstairs, flitting past me, but he’s down here. So now I wonder if it was Zane.”

“So you think that was Zane’s ghost?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Bill nodded. “I guess he’s going to hang around until we find a new dog.”

We usually get new dogs within a month of losing one, but it’s easier to do that in the United States. There, people don’t hold it against us that we’re Americans affiliated with the military. We also don’t travel as much or as often there. We decided to wait on getting a new dog until after our road trip to France, since we’re going to need to take time breaking it in. To be honest, as much as I want another dog, I feel a little apprehensive about the process of getting one. I guess that when the time is right, the right dog will show up.

It’s always heartbreaking to look at Facebook memories at this time of year. In December 2009, Zane joined our family as a young dog. In December 2012, MacGregor was dying of cancer. Both are gone now, and they were both wonderful dogs. I miss them… and I don’t know how another dog will fill Zane’s pawprints. But I also know that I’ve never regretted a single dog we’ve taken in, and somehow they all manage to be wonderful in their own special ways. I much prefer dogs and other animals to most people, too. Pets love you for who you are and don’t screw you over.

Bill’s mom is coming here next month, so I don’t know how much searching we will do in January. I suspect we might have a new friend in the spring… We’ll see.

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Wiesbadener Weihnachtsmarkt 2019

Bill and I were determined to get out of the house today, even though the skies were cloudy. It was a bit warmer today than it was yesterday and we wanted to pick up a few Christmas gifts and get some lunch in town. After a quick walk around the market and the weekly farmer’s market, we stopped by Ristorante Comeback, an Italian place on Wiesbaden’s “restaurant row”. Having tried La Cantinetta, the Italian place next door, we were eager to try a new place.

Ristorante Comeback was pretty busy, and it was warm enough that some people sat outside. We decided to sit inside, although it was pretty crowded in there. The waiter offered us English menus after hearing us speaking our native tongues, but we told him we could manage with the German menus. After five years, we can do that much, right? Here are a few photos from lunch. We both had special pasta dishes that were heavy on foam.

The waiter spoke English well and took good care of us. We rewarded him with a generous tip, for which he offered sincere thanks. I’d go back to Comeback Ristorante, although on a busy day, I think I’d rather sit outside. It was pretty chummy in the dining room. Our bill came to 55 euros and consisted of the pasta dishes, a bottle of San Pellegrino, and two glasses each of red wine. They also brought out hot, homemade bread, which was very nice.

After lunch, we did our shopping, enjoying the festive sights and sounds of Wiesbaden during the holidays. I think I prefer the market up here to the one down in Stuttgart, which was always very crowded and zoo-like. Here are some photos from our visit. We got some gifts for friends, but I saw quite a few things I wanted for myself. We may have to go back next week with more euros.

I’m not usually all that keen on Christmas markets because they’re so crowded and people don’t watch where they’re going. I like Wiesbaden’s market, though, because there’s a big space for it and the crowds aren’t so obnoxious. It’s also very festive and people are upbeat. There were quite a few buskers out, too, including one band that appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent. They played “Feliz Navidad” (which Germans seem to love for some reason) and a not quite accurate version of “Jingle Bells”. But what can we say? I don’t think it’s their holiday. I give them mad props for effort and being entertaining. I hope they brought in some euros!

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Our little Adventmarkt!

A year ago, Bill and I spent December 1st moving into what was our new home in Wiesbaden. He was recovering from cleaning our old house in Jettingen, which turned out to be a complete waste of time, since our former landlady was determined to find and charge us for every little defect, whether or not we were responsible for it. In retrospect, I wish we had just broom swept the place, as required by our lease, and been done with it. Trying to clean that house to her impossible standards was a waste of energy that took away from the energy we needed to set up our new home.

Anyway, because we were in the process of moving, we never did make it down the hill to Breckenheim’s adorable little Adventmarkt, which goes on for just one day every year. They had it last night, so we went down for a couple of glasses of Gluhwein. I got some pictures. Most of the booths were for food and mulled wine, as far as I could tell. They had waffles, crepes, and I could see the Breckenheimer bikers were selling brats off the grill. They were the ones who threw the awesome rock festival over the summer.

I love how community minded Breckenheim is. This is a community that does a lot of neighborhood events and I can see that the neighbors are friendly and social and like to do stuff together. I experienced this a lot less when we lived in the Stuttgart area. They had events, but they weren’t necessarily neighborhood events. It was also a lot harder to meet people down there because it seemed like the general mood was more reserved. I did make friends in the Stuttgart area, but it usually took more time. A lot of times, our dogs facilitated the meetings, too.

The lady who owned the dog, Sammy, was also working the Gluhwein stand. She noticed Bill’s German accent wasn’t native and quickly figured out we are English speakers. It turned out she lived in the United States for awhile and worked for Seagram, the beverage company. She came out and had a lovely chat with us on topics ranging from The Rolling Stones to Donald Trump. I found myself apologizing for our president, who is not popular over here for obvious reasons. But Germans have a laugh about that, since Trump’s origins in Kallstadt are not far from where we’re living now. Some of Trump’s poor extended relatives in Germany have been treated badly because he’s a distant relative.

Our new acquaintance from last night had plenty of opinions about American politics, which she expressed in excellent English, as well as a funny story about visiting the Jim Beam distillery in Clermont, Kentucky and being shocked that it was in a dry town. We chuckled and told her that Jack Daniel’s distillery in Lynchburg, Tennessee is also in a dry town, and that folks who live there have to bring in their booze from a neighboring town that doesn’t ban alcohol.

When we told our new acquaintance we used to live in Swabia, she had a good laugh about the dialect, which even a lot of Germans don’t understand, and the stereotypes about people from Stuttgart. She said they are very good at business, since they’re very detail oriented and hate to spend money. I suppose I can agree with that, although I don’t know that being that way always leads to good business sense. Sometimes, both of those qualities are alienating and can get in the way of business. The trick is knowing when to be that way and when to lighten up and go with the flow. Sometimes a person can be “penny wise and pound foolish”.

Sammy, the dog, was incredibly adorable. His owner told us that he doesn’t like little kids and she worries that he’ll bite them. I noticed Sammy started barking whenever kids ran past him, but he was utterly charmed by the two fluffy furball puppies another family brought. I wish I had Arran with me, but he’s at the Hundepension Birkenhof today, because Bill and I have to go to Landstuhl and spend the night. Bill is having routine tests done at the hospital and I am the designated driver, because he will be under the influence of sedatives. God help us. At least we have a Volvo!

We headed back to the house when it became clear that my kidneys are in good working order. I suppose we could have gone back to the festivities and hung around for the appearance of Santa… Maybe if we’re still here next year, we’ll do that, if it’s not too cold. Last night’s weather was chilly, but not too unpleasant, but you never know in Germany. A few years ago, we had snow on December 1st. But then, that was down in Stuttgart, where things can be chillier in more ways than one!

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