Follow up on last week’s expository ramble on my inner thoughts. I wanted to make a few things clear--tho I grew up in the exact landscape of “the Ice Storm”, my life, my parents’ life, was not like that at all. I have many good things, great memories etc from my 1970s suburban-american-WASP upbringing, and I was blessed with a great family. I had a dog, I ran wild in the woods, and generally didn’t get into any trouble at all. The suburbs are a little culturally monochrome in some ways--but I have filled in the gaps with my travels and experiences and by living in big cities all my adult life. And my folks and teachers took me to museums, operas, symphonic concerts--and again, as an adult, I discovered many things under the many-angled sun. So, if anyone read my post as a complaint about my upbringing--it was not. If anyone read my post as a snub of my American upbringing versus my life in France--it was not.
In fact, in terms of family, I’ve had a great visit with my dad and stepmom, who are visiting this weekend. My dad hadn’t been to France in over 50 years. He traveled, like me, professionally for most of his career, and isn’t super big on the idea of travel as leisure but he took €25 club sandwiches and hour-plus TGV delays in stride (someone met their unfortunate end driving onto the tracks ahead of a TGV, which shut down the regional network just as my folks were about to get to La Rochelle). We showed them the island, played tennis, watched Aden put on her daily freak/genius show, had long dinners and lunches in the sun.
Before they arrived, my friends Beth & Ed and their son Soren were here too, we met up for some swimming and dining and letting the kids play. Ed is a rocker dad, too (Urge Overkill) and Beth like Dom has put in many hours in music biz management. They were blown away by the charm of St. Martin (who wouldn’t be, but I forget sometimes) and we showed them all our secret coups de coeur.
The local paper today had my pic in it twice, and when we went to pick up my folks at the train station in La Rochelle there were posters everywhere for the festival.
Allergies this week. Crippling. My stepmom turned me on to Zyrtec; when I take that and about 50 other pills I can usually open my eyes by dinner time. I would line up pills like little soldiers and pray for rain (literally, as they are milder when the weather is worse).
Restaurant compare and contrast--
We were saddened to see that what had been one of our favorite dinner spots on the island, La Cabane du Fier, was not up to the same standards this year. Not only did we not get the table we requested (We had booked several days in advance) but the servers were on our back to order about 30 seconds after we sat down, and returned every two minutes, as if they couldn’t wait to get rid of us. When you needed to get someone’s attention of course...impossible. Once you have that atmosphere, you can’t really enjoy the food as much and it’s true that some of our favorite items were gone from the menu. So, we give away one of our previous secret spots as it’s now a place to avoid.
Compare that to the terrace at
Le Richelieu--Le Richelieu is a luxury hotel and spa next to La Flotte, and its restaurant has a Michelin star, with white linen and hushed waiters. However, on the terrace, the atmosphere is casual and the location is right by the sea--you can jump right in after lunch (I’m pleased to find those 20 minutes of required digestion time go by much quicker than they did when I was waiting for the green light to re-enter my grandparents’ pool). It’s basically the same menu as the inside and it’s definitely the same wine list. There’s a patch of lawn that the kids can play on (I don’t think that was the intention, but they don’t mind). We arrived 20 minutes late for our table and they held it for us. And the food is perfectly executed. So, this is the best lunch spot that I am willing to tell you about on the island...enjoy.
Woke up in the middle of the night as huge storm battered the island...artillery was firing from/at our village directly, as best as we could tell...
Love
KS
St. Martin de Re
