Serving Barnwell County and it's neighbors since 1852
My wife and I left Vaison-la-Romaine that morning and cycled about twenty miles, climbing fourteen hundred feet through the verdant, grapevine studded hills of Provence, the smells of the early harvest season assailing our nostrils as our legs and lungs burned in the warming French air. Our destination that day was the town of Bedóin, one of the three places that served as launching sites for thousands of cyclists who came to assault the perfect cone of Mont Ventoux, the “Giant of Provence”. Although we did not climb it ourselves, we would get to know its comforting shadow throughout the next ten days, as it was visible to us on almost every single day of our trek through the countryside. We arrived at the town square tired, hungry, thirsty and ready to be done with riding for the day. It was only after we had finished a nice lunch that we realized that we had at least another couple of kilometers and another four hundred and fifty meters of climb before we would arrive at our final place of rest for that evening. Dutifully, we got back on the bikes and made the approach.
The Hotel la Garance, named for a Eurasian herb in the madder family with whorled leaves and small yellowish flowers, was a perfectly charming place at the foot of Mont Ventoux. It had earned two Michelin stars for the comfort and service that we would soon experience. We arrived hot, sweaty and hungry again (cycling does that to you somehow) and were greeted by Johanna, a Dutch born lady who spoke multiple languages and had a soft smile and comforting manner that immediately put us at ease. She insisted that we relax, have a drink or two in the twenty four hour lobby and await the arrival of our luggage, which would be delivered by taxi shortly after a slight mixup in transit. We accepted the offer gladly, found some Orangina and water and sat down with audible groans and grateful backsides. We had not known that we would be almost two miles from the town, so we were brainstorming our dinner plans when the gracious hostess, who had been in this business in France for at least twenty years, overheard our plight. “I will prepare dinner for you,” she said, more a statement than an offer. We protested. She insisted. We made excuses. She countered with sublime creativeness. We demurred. We said that we would clean up (our luggage had arrived) and be back down to avail ourselves of her gracious offer within the hour.
Later, much refreshed, clean and ready to enjoy dinner, we came back down to the lobby to be escorted out to the glassed in dining area mostly used for morning breakfasts for guests, and beheld a wonderfully set table for two. There was cantaloupe, ham, three kinds of cheese, a fresh green salad, fresh bread and butter, a carafe of local rosé wine, and fresh figs and plums for dessert. Johanna herself checked on us to make sure that all was perfect, and chatted with us as we got comfortable and tucked into this most wonderful, lovingly prepared meal. As we learned more about her, we heard the concern in her voice as she relayed that her beloved retriever, who had been by her side at work since he was a puppy when she had started managing Hotel la Garance ten years before, was ill and at the vet in town. She had not heard yet about his prognosis, and was anxious to speak with the vet the next day to see how he was doing. In spite of this, she showed us such hospitality and caring and attention that we were simply floored and full of gratitude. She took her leave, we finished our dinner, cleared the table and headed to our much needed rest ahead of the next day’s ride.
When we returned from our twenty three mile loop ride the next afternoon, we learned from another employee that Johanna’s beloved pet, Gaston, had died. We were saddened and wondered immediately how she could have shown us such compassion and care just the night before, when she surely had an inkling that she might be losing her best friend. We immediately began work on a card for her, complete with our sentiments in French, that might somehow convey our own sadness at her loss. We did see her back at work the next day, looking a bit distracted and not really herself, but caring for her guests in her own way. As we prepared to check out of la Garance the next morning, heading towards Gordes, Johanna told us that she was not even going to charge us for the lovely dinner she had so kindly prepared for us our first night there. Of course, we tipped her generously, through her mild protestations, and told her how very sorry we were for her loss of Gaston but how very much we had enjoyed staying at her fine hotel for these two nights. We marveled as we rode out that day how a person like Johanna could express the highest form of altruism caring for others in such a heartfelt way, even when her own heart was breaking. It was a lesson worth learning in any language, and one that we will never forget. Au-revoir, Johanna. Au-revoir, Gaston!
