A Beautiful Story to Remember

A few years ago, I worked for a German person who told me a heart-warming real-life story, in fact his story. Let’s re-baptize our German friend Franz to make the story description easier.

Franz was used to take some vacation time in Spain and travel by car from his natal Bavaria. Each year, he was “trying” a new road through France to appreciate the different regions. He was not speaking French but always had found people to converse, with common words and hand signs for all the basic needs, as it is usually practiced in Europe. For that year, he decided to go through Auvergne, a beautiful region with breathtaking mountain ranges and volcanic peaks, giving views of a lunar looking landscape pitted with craters, rock outcroppings and rugged pine forests. History, as usual for any French area, is filled with details such as the origin of the region’s name derived from the Arverni, a Celtic population with its famous leader Vercingetorix.

It was not the easiest way to go to Spain as roads were narrow and twisty but the experience of travelling through was worth it for Franz. Nevertheless, he didn’t projected to find himself on the middle of a countryside with no hotel or restaurant to be found when he became tired and hungry. One more small medieval village to go through with little hope for hospitality, nevertheless, to his surprise, one modest house on the square had a couple of commercial umbrellas shading a handful of little terrace tables protected by a small brigade of old bistro looking-like chairs. This was the first sign of a hostelry Franz had seen for a while and decided that his choice was easy as he didn’t wanted risking to drive for an unknown time with a growling stomach and a tired body.

Franz parked the car like a horse at a saloon, walked to the terrace and felled on one of the chair, ready to use his hands to express his urgent need for food. An old lady came discreetly, looking at him with a smile. She recognized the German plate on the car and asked him with the most appropriate silent mime, what can I do for you? And as if language didn’t matter anymore, he answered with one hand: I am very hungry! Franz knew that small restaurants do not carry a meal choice and one better like what the local food look like and taste, although always fresh from the morning market.

And food was, on a plate accompanied with a glass of red wine and even the rest of the bottle standing on the middle of the table, as a witness of his feast. Reassured and satiated, Franz was leaning back as his hostess came, looking for the signs of satisfaction. He took the opportunity to ask her, this time with two hands, if she had an available bed, essentially meaning a room for him to rest. The answer was positive and he was following the old lady, walking behind at a slow pace, one small step at a time, as if he had aged 50 years in an instant.

Bath room on first floor was shown briefly before climbing the stairs in an even slower and painstaking pace. The bedroom was as if time had stopped ticking in the late 1800 with an impressive sculpted wooden framed bed with poles looking like the towers of a cathedral. Franz thought that if he could climb that bed, he was going to sleep well to way past sun dawn. A massive buffet was ornamented with an antic porcelain washbasin and a huge jug that could contain 2 gallons of water. That’s my antic shower thought Franz before thanking his hostess, closing the door, climbing the bed and almost instantly passing out in a deep sleep.

The sun was so bright, lighting up the room as if he was on the center of a ball stadium during a game. Franz almost felled off the bed having to stretch his legs to reach the floor. Time to get moving and after a quick splash of water on his face and torso, jumped in his clothe, collected his belongings and ran downstairs where the sweet old lady greeted him with a sincere smile. She had a coffee pot full and was ready to pour the hot beverage in a fine white porcelain cup, probably as old as the bedroom and who knows the entire house content.

Franz was directed to the terrace and got served a plate with two fresh croissants; a beautiful white and red shaker napkin was cheerfully waiting. The coffee was, for sure, what we call around the world a French roast, as French would call that simply…. coffee. The croissants were smelling fresh butter and were so flaky that Franz was juggling like a circus clown with the pieces falling off and the firm intention of not missing a single crumb. It was that good.

Time to leave. Franz was feeling some regrets as he felt comfortable in this retro home but his trip to Spain was calling him to burn more rubber before destination. He was showing his opened wallet to the lady as a sign of readiness to pay. Strangely, he felt that something was wrong at the view of the shocking expression of his hostess, as she got animated with her two arms, pushing the air in the direction of the money, as if the odor was affecting her breathing. « Non, non! » she kept saying; « c’est ma maison, je n’ai pas besoin de votre argent ! Vous êtes le bienvenu chez moi ! Vous aviez besoin de repos et nourriture pour continuer votre chemin ! » (No, no, this is my house, I don’t need your money! You are welcome in my home! You needed to rest and be fed before continuing your journey!).

Franz was shocked. Not only he understood more French than he even though he would but he also realized that this old lady had given him hospitality in her own home... not a business. He hardly believed that one person could be so kind to him, even after the long lasting memory of the last war, forty five years ago… His parent’s generation invading a Country with people like his hostess… It took him a few minutes to hide his tears and find his breathing pace back to thank her and hug her, asking for her address, as he wanted to remember her for the rest of his life.

Franz has sent letters and post cards to his preferred and dear old Lady and has never missed to tell the story as a reminder that kindness is the greatest quality of humankind.

Cheers to you my friends, as thanks-giving has one more meaning and at anytime of the year.