What is it we do when not skipping from monument to monument? A day in the city needs to be followed by a day of rest.  Is it nothing? Not really, sometimes these kind of days create the best of memories.

Walking into our village to pick up the day’s breakfast and lunch is always a good way to absorb the flavor of our surroundings.  It was quiet.  We had hoped to do some laundry in town but when I asked our inn keeper about a laundry mat she looked at me strangely and said, “No, it is August.”  I understood that to mean many of the businesses are closed because the shop keepers are on vacation.

We were thankful that this fruit market was open.  The shop owner was nowhere to be found but a local came up to us and spoke some French, I smiled and said, “English?”  He then asked for a euro.  It’s easier in a big city to brush somebody off but when there are just three of you standing in the street and someone is looking me in the eye and saying, “for a sandwich,” how can I say no?  Dennis reaches into his pocket and the guy spies all the coins and then asks for two euros.  Dennis says, “ONE.”  Then the stinker walks a block away into the grocery, buys a beer and plops himself on the bench to drink it.  He could have waited until we were gone!

This, my picky eater 3 weeks ago.  Now asks for a chunk of bread to gnaw on as we make our leisurely way home.  So proud of him.  I told him before we left that he would not have the same choices and would have to eat what we had or he would get very hungry.  He must have taken that to heart because he has been eating everything.

When evening approached we drove into town looking for a place to pop into.  The cobble stone streets, narrow and dark,  except for a neon light shining, TURQUES.  We see a couple of tough guys standing outside the shop eyeballing our tinted window Audi.  Looks a pinch scary but not as scary as 4 hungry kids.  I could see the big lamb kabob turning in the window.  Oh man, I love gyros! We get to the end of the block and have the usual discussion. “Do you want to stop?” I don’t know, yes, I guess, but you already drove by.” “Well, why didn’t you say something?” “I did, why didn’t you stop?” “There wasn’t any parking.” So we did what any responsible parents would do on a dark street, in a strange town.  “Kids, get out, quick.  Here’s some money, we’ll see if we can find a place to park.”  We drive off, “should we have marked that on the GPS?” “Hurry, go around the block!”  We get around the block and of course there is still no parking because it is a one lane road.  We peer into the tiny café, maximum occupancy of 10.  Whew! kids are all still there.  The guys on the sidewalk wave us in and tell us to shut the car down.  I was impressed the girls had already ordered.  Nobody spoke any English and we didn’t speak any………..well, whatever it was they were speaking, French mixed with Turk?  We exchanged a lot of smiles, they gave off warm fuzzies. I felt safe. They were so happy that we were there which made us super happy to be there.  The one guy came around the corner to pat Raleigh on the head and buy him a Fanta.  Then later he came over with bottles of water for the rest of us.  He got a big kick out of Raleigh’s, “merci beaucoup.”  These guys were so great that we patronized them the next night too.  Dennis went down to get us take-out.  The Turks were so joyful to see him that they bought him a beer.  The only other guy to buy Den a beer in Europe was his brother Scott.  Den had to have a selfie with his buddies.  The other guy wanted to shake his hand too and you can see his affection as he reached across the counter to squeeze his arm for the picture.  These are the kind of moments we have and appreciate when we slow our pace.  Dennis was so touched by the kindness and appreciation of these strangers. No words could be exchanged because of a language barrier but an overwhelming feeling of camaraderie welled up in the hearts of these three men.

It’s been a nice change to play cards, all of us being in one cozy space.  Blitz is the game of choice from Dennis’ childhood.  The “Queen” (inn keeper) was pleasantly surprised to see us playing.  My brother, Jason, and I would play gin and gin rummy when we would stay with our grandma for a week at a time.  She would invite her two best friends over and we would learn the etiquette of the game.  Sitting at the kitchen table in a swirl of smoke, with the smell of lipstick and rouge wafting around us.  It was hard to concentrate at times because I would get lost in the detail of the one friend’s blue eye shadow and a deep smoky laugh.  Her mouth would open wide and I could see the silver laced in her teeth.  Grandma would remind me not to grab my cards one at a time as they were dealt but to wait patiently.  I would hope for grandma to offer a butterscotch disc and then later another.  I have to believe that Dennis and my fond memories playing cards as kids will also be great memories for our children in years to come.

This snuggle time for Raleigh and his dad are precious moments.  They have to be taken intentionally, for there are always other more “important” tasks to be handled.  It is only when we slow down, way down, that we see a glimpse of the benefit– but we’ll only truly see it many years down the road.  A son feeling that he is valued by his dad and worth his time, priceless.