It was up at 4:00am, a quick caffe before leaving.
M. Raymond et Mme. Martine Rizzo offered a wonderful dinner last night at their home. As I said before, they are friends of the Garde's and had visited with Paul and Janet Mathieu in East Freetown a few years ago. They hosted me overnight and brought me to the airport this morning. The Garde's picked me up at La Sainte-Baume (no more italics for French, now I'll use them for Italiano) and we arrived at the Rizzo's about 6:00PM. Aperitifs were served. I asked for a Pastis, the classic provencal drink. Mme. Rizzo was surprised because a few other Americans who shall remain nameless didn't care for it. It really is an acquired taste, and ............. well .................. I've acquired it. "Quelle surprise?" So she didn't think of offering it. Actually the Dominicans didn't offer it either. This was my first Pastis since I arrived in France. Won't be the last, to be sure.
Dinner was served. A wonderful and hearty ham quiche with a salad of plain greens and chopped shallots, braised chicken and a ratatouille with rice, a great cheese plate that included a "Rocamadour" cheese. (If you look up nothing else, you gotta google Rocamadour. It's a medeival town in the Lot region of France. It is litteraly hanging off a 800 foot cliff with houses, churches, monasteries, convents, and now the modern stores and restaurants actually carved into the cliff. The streets in front are the roofs of the houses below.) It's an amazing place and they make an incredible cheese - a goat cheese in these tiny rounds about 2 inches in diameter and half inch thick. Only place I've found it locally is a little joint on Shawmut Ave. in Boston called of all things, The South End Fromagerie. Anyway, there they were - three little rounds of Rocamadour chevre. As if the retreat was not heaven enough.
Oh and by the way, they asked about the meals at the Hotelerie at La Sainte-Baume. It occured to me that in 25 days, no meal was ever repeated - even the braised beef and chicken dishes were prepared differently.
Forgive me for backtracking a bit. There may be a few other recollections I have of La Sainte-Baume and I may need from time to time to go back. These will be brief interruptions in the narrative as things pop into my head. Here is one now. As I was waiting for the Garde's to pick me up, I had a chance to chat with most of the Domincan friars. Frere Romeric assured me he would continue following the blog. (Merci, frere). He commented about my French in the past 25 days. He told me that when I arrived, a Canadian accent was barely detectable. However, in the recent days, as my fluency increased, the Canadian accent has become more pronounced. I just find that fascinating, (so I'm writing about it). I'm sure that as I became more comfortable with the French, patterns of speech and the accent of my childhood have come back. I really did start to think in French after about two weeks. That was one of the things I was hoping for by choosing to spend the retreat time in France.
After the dinner, the Garde's left to go home. Invitations were extended and assurances given that there would be a reunion when I return at the end of the Rome. They are reading the blog too.
While I was waiting at the airport, heavy rain began, and no plane at gate 31. Delay was all I could think. But in a short while, an announcement sent us to gate 32, boarding a bus and onto the tarmac - 60 seat prop plane. Lucky I decided to check luggage with no change of plane between Marseille and Rome. We took off on time and in minutes we were above the clouds. I am just amazed when that happens. In a little while, in the distance, a chain of rugged mountains came into view ahead off to the right of the plane. It was a spectacular sight to see the summits sticking out above the clouds as we flew by. I am assuming it was the island of Corsica. (Guilhem told me I had to visit Corsica, a should-not-miss. Another destination to add to the list.) The clouds below thinned out just in time to the west coast. With map in hand, I was able to make out some of the features of the coast. It was indeed Corsica, and confirmed by the flight attendant. The rest of the flight was clear with the coast of Italy ahead. Beautiful day in Rome. Michaela, the travel agent who will be at our group's disposal for the weeks ahead, was waiting for me. With luggage pick up it was off to meet the driver and an effortless drive into Rome; unlike other trips I made. I was quite surprised how easily we got to the Casa O'Toole. (Not very Italian-sounding is it? More details later.)
Would you believe it's lunch time?
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| Some of the view from my room. The Casa O'Toole is behind the NOrth American College. You can see just a bit of it to pictures's left. It is slightly higher on the Gianocolo hill. Rooms on the other side of the building can see the dome of St. Peter's Basilica. |
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| Panning to the right is the rest of the view. |
After lunch, I returned to the Casa O'Toole and had some laundry to do. I am meeting Deacon Williams at 4 for an excursion into town. I need to purchase a cassock and an alb. I also at this time have no black clerics shirts, or my black suit. The box I sent to Rome ahead of me is stuck in the Italian customs. The staff here is working on that for me.
Down to check on laundry and off to meet the deacon.
