The Zen of Ice Cream and Castle Walls

There's something about sitting beneath the ramparts of an elegant yet imposing stone fortress, eating ice cream with your wife on a sunny day. It's as if... First let me clarify, I wasn't with "your wife"...I may not even know your wife, and I've probably never eaten ice cream with her, and certainly not on a beautiful day below the parapet, or any other pets; we were just enjoying ice cream--that's not a euphemism. I was with my wife; we were eating ice cream... It was as if we were one with the universe, and the universe was one with us. I don't think it's possible to have a terrible time while eating ice cream on a sunny day, even without a magnificent stone pile for a companion--meaning the chateau figuratively, not my actual, literal companion...my wife...not yours. Eating under the protection of the castle made us completely impervious to any negative waves. 

As the French might say, C'etait formidable! I had chocolate chip mint. She had rasberry. 

It was after the ice cream that the negative waves came. Sylvie had recommended that we enjoy some ice cream after the assault on the castle. She had also given me her telephone numbers: her cellphone number and the residence number. We decided to call her, as per her earlier orders, to see if she could come to pick us up. The other option, the bus, would not leave town for another hour or more. We called Sylvie. Both numbers. Several times. Neither number worked. I sent her an email, letting her know that we had not been able to reach her by phone; we would take the bus.

We went to the tourism and information center to confirm the bus schedule. It was here at this place established for helping people, especially tourists, that we met the only person in France who did not actually help us much. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties. Her tank top was of a bright pink persuasion; it was as if someone had melted a pink crayon on a 60 watt bulb, and left the bulb burning. Unfortunately, the shirt was the only bright thing about her. Actually, that is too harsh. She was nice, but not as nice as most of the people that we had met. She did try to help us. She didn't know the bus schedule, but she did look it up, and gave us a time when the bus would stop right across the street from the information center. 

We had some time to kill. We walked around the square, and down to the bridge. We sat under the trees enjoying the view. Eventually, we made our way back to the bench where we had eaten lunch. A very nice bus arrived; it unloaded and stayed parked. I went to speak with the driver to see if maybe this was our bus. As I had suspected, it was a private charter bus, not our bus. The bus driver asked if I was British; I think it was the hat that fooled him.

As the time drew near for the bus to arrive, we went to the bus stop. The bus stop was next to the city hall. That building was under construction; it was wrapped in scaffolding and clear plastic sheeting; so was the bus stop. We waited nearby. After a short while, we noticed a man waiting on the other side of the street, twenty or thirty yards down. He appeared to be waiting for something. After a few minutes, he approached us; he asked if we were waiting for the bus. When I told him that we were, he informed me that the bus stop at which we waited was no good any more. He explained that the bus used to come in and make a loop, stopping at our location before finally leaving town. The new route, which had been in effect for many months, perhaps a year, eliminated the loop; the bus came through town, stopped once, and went out the other side. No bus would stop at our location. However, he was catching the bus to Compiegne. The new stop was where he had been waiting. So much for the help from the information center.

I don't remember our new friend's name. We exchanged names before we parted in Compiegne after the bus trip through the woods and villages. He worked in Pierrefonds, but lived in Compiegne. He was some kind of manager at an agricultural business. I had a very difficult time understanding him, but we appreciated his unsolicited aid. He also told us that we might have time to see the palace in Compiegne before it closed, and that we should get off the bus when it stopped at the palace. We got off the bus with him at the palace in Compiegne, thanking him sincerely for his kindness.

We went:
Far beyond those castle walls
Where I thought I heard a stranger say
The bus stop is not what it seems
And every man must meet his destiny

Storming the castle

Sylvie dropped us off in Pierrefonds near the chateau. She gave me her cellphone and home phone numbers so that we could call her to come and pick us up when we were done. I told her that we could take the bus back; she said to call and she would come and get us. 

A seafood restaurant, a boulangerie, and a few other establishments lined one side of the square below the chateau. 

We chose the boulangerie after looking at the seafood prices. We didn't feel like seafood, anyway; or rather, we didn't feel like eating seafood. I wanted my wife to experience France the way that I had years ago...eating at little shops instead of McDonalds. A cute girl ran the boulangerie; she had short blonde hair and green or blue eyes...I'm pretty sure it was one or the other, rather than one of each. We looked around while a couple other people in the small shop, which was completely open on one side, got their orders and left. 

We decided to split a ham and cheese panini which came with a drink and a chocolate eclair. I got a pomme cassis frambroise; my wife got a bottle of water. While we were waiting for the panini to heat, a man came in saying, "Messiers, 'dames," the traditional French greeting when entering a shop. He was short (about my size--there are lots of people my size in France), and had graying hair; he wore a blue, long-sleeved shirt that buttoned up the front. Like the girl behind the counter, he was cheerful and polite. 

We ate our lunch on a bench beneath a tree at the end of the square closest to the chateau. "Delicious" describes the panini, and its texture was very pleasant. The pomme cassis framboise delighted my tastebuds. I had forgotten that unique sweet taste. We enjoyed the eclair for dessert. 

A long walkway circled around the chateau, climbing toward the entrance. Just before the entrance, we found a bunch of children eating lunch on the grass...and my wife wanted a picture of them.

We passed the guard who examined my wife's bag; we crossed the drawbridge, went under the portcullis and into the courtyard. Our Paris Museum passes gained us entrance free of charge. 

I won't bore you with the details about the castle...except to say that walking those cool corridors and climbing the stone stairways, exploring historic rooms and artifacts, from high hallways to the deep, dark foundations of the pile brought back sweet memories of a day long ago; at the same time it etched upon my heart new and better memories shared with the precious companion who made me believe that the dream could become real.