Fun in France with Louis and Dédée

Lou-wee and Day-day. That’s how you pronounce their names (and oh, how I love to say their names): Louis and Dédée. Louis, a friend and former work colleague of my father’s going years back, and his wife Dédée, my very patient French conversation helper.


Louis, Dédée, et moi

 Both times I’ve been to France--a week in ‘n’ around Paris in 2004, a month around the larger country in 2009--Louis and Dédée were my wonderful hosts for a time. This post is a recollection in pictures and words of the generous hospitality they showed me in France.

Me and Dédée at Louis XIV's modest little home

So where's this? In front of my hotel? Louis and Dédée's front yard? No! It's at the Palace of Versailles. Versailles was not a place I expected I'd get to visit my first visit to France. When it comes to checking out old buildings while traveling, I've always leaned more towards churches than castles. And when I was planning out my week in Paris and decided to spend one day outside the city, it was a toss-up between the train to Chartres or the train to Versailles. Being churchy, I chose Chartres (with no regrets--the cathedral there is staggering). But when Louis and Dédée heard I'd be missing out on Versailles, they could not let this stand. My last day in Paris would be spent not in Paris, but at Versailles--it was decided. So one morning I was whisked away from my hotel in the Latin Quarter, with a brief stop at the ruins of some Roman baths by the Musée de Cluny...


Me and Dédée at the Roman ruins at the Musée de Cluny

  ...to this:

Dédée and me in gardens at Versailles, in front of Latona fountain

Sculpture depicting peasants turning into frogs on the Latona fountain

And this:

King Louis XIV on a horse--clearly

And this:

Inside the palace--Hall of Mirrors

Me inside the palace, pretending I can keep up with the French on the audiotour tape

Marie-Antoinette's hamlet, where she could play "peasant"

Lovely

Lovely too

Me and Louis in front of the Grand Trianon

Versailles wasn't the only palace or grand chateau Louis and Dédée took me to see. We did a drive-by from a distance of the chateau at Chantilly at sunset and watched a crescent moon rise over the castle. And Dédée took a walk through the magnificent gardens and woods at Napoleon III's chateau at Compiègne, where the ever patient Dédée (she has no English, my French is rather basic--I can understand it better than I can speak it) told me about French folk beliefs of the flowers and trees in the gardens.

Me and Ulysses, in the gardens at Napoleon III's chateau

La vie d'une voyageuse est si difficile! In the gardens at Compiègne.

You can tell a lot about what makes the locals proud and what about their homeland they find most interesting by the places your host takes you to. By taking me to some of the most beautiful chateaux and loveliest gardens near Paris, it's clear Louis and Dédée take pride in the beauty and sense of majesty their countrymen have created over time.

And like true French folks, they also take pride in their country's cuisine. The very first time I met Louis and Dédée they took me out to dinner in Paris. Up until then I'd been dining on baguette sandwiches and crepes and croissants, which impressed me enough but is all the same bargain-traveler fare served in the kind of sidewalk-vendor places where you don't have to worry about how to figure out a French menu or French dining manners. The restaurant Louis and Dédée took me to, however, was the real deal, the kind of restaurant where the crowd doesn't get under swing until 9 PM at the earliest and where the entire meal takes at least a couple hours. Louis and Dédée took genuine interest in what I ordered and what I thought of the food, and Dédée spoke with excitement and approval after I ordered a lamb dish that she told me is slowly roasted for 7 hours for maximum tenderness and moistness. Before hitting Versailles, we had lunch at a Moroccan restaurant in the village, where once again Louis and Dédée could fill me in on what was what, what to try, and how it was prepared. And every time I visit them, I cannot leave without being given a gift of a can of confit de canard, a yummy duck dish that Dédée told me how to prepare once I got back home to the U.S. The duck is preserved in its own fat, which Louis told me is a healthier alternative to cooking in butter and other fats. One of the secrets of the French, he claimed--right up there with red wine for one of those so-called indulgences that actually can make for a healthier (and happier) long life.

Partying the French way--gorging on canapés and guzzling aperitifs

No precious snobs, Louis and Dédée as it turns out are also adventure types who love boating, motorcycling, skiiing...and shooting! They belong to a local sport shooting club, and one night they invited me along to a going away party for one their club's members. There, Louis insisted I have a little shooting lesson.

What, what, what am I doing?!

Louis coaches me on proper handling of the gun

I have never held, much less shot, a gun in my life, except for the water-squirt kind. The last place I ever thought I'd get a chance to was France. I always thought Europeans hated guns, and I never thought about whether some Europeans used guns for sport shooting or hunting. As an American, I've heard so many comments while traveling about "you Americans and your guns"--and I've always quietly informed those commenters that I've never even held one or seen one outside of a museum much less owned one. And now I was at a club for guns...in Europe...in France...right outside Paris, the city of culture and love. Me...packing the heat!

Annie Oakley

Like many men, Louis is a technology nut. He collects radios going back to WWII days and powerful telescopes (including one through which I was able to view Jupiter) along with all kinds of gadgets. Sports guns naturally fall into his techie interests, and he did a good job showing me how to hold the gun, how to load it, what all the parts were for, telling me when to take my time and when to react, safety measures... He did such a good job, I turned out to be a regular Annie Oakley, making a bulls-eye within 20 minutes into my lesson! (Though Louis and everyone at the club joked that of course I'm a natural shot, I'm American!)

My target with the bulls-eye shot. Don't mess with me!

I remember that night, for all its guns and shooting and target practice, ended very civilized, very French--quaffing Ricard and champagne and gorging on canapés with foie gras and caviar. I mistakenly thought the canapés was our dinner for the night (which would've been fine by me) and so indulged properly--only to discover as we left the club that we were just now heading to dinner. Oh boy. Shouldn't have been a surprise. They know how to live, the French do. They know what priorities are.

I end this post with a sincere thanks to Louis and Dédée for showing me a warm, fun, and beautiful side of France that a woman on her own probably never would have experienced otherwise. I end this post with a big merci beaucoup and a Voulez-vous m'adopter?*

*Will you adopt me?