We just stepped back into a part of our home we haven’t used for a while. The walk took about fifteen hours, just two plane flights, but we are back and marveling at what a nice space it is. We call it part of our home because it is to us. It is sometimes distant, but never forgotten, just like you our friends and family are right now.
As an aside…part way through our flight over, a flight attendant leaned down and said, “Why you’re our thirty-year frequent flyer, aren’t you?” Surprise was probably written all over my face. This is the same airline that could barely make, much less later find, my reservation a year ago. Now they knew my personal history and had asked the crew to notice me during the flight. I only mention this because it indeed made me feel special, a difficult task in the best of times. That is the essence of customer service, isn’t it? Making someone feel like they really matter. It works in the rest of life too.
Some good friends, recently returned from Maine, asked us over for a welcome glass last evening. He is French, a former chef in New York, and now he and his wife split their year between the states and Villefranche sur Mer. Every Saturday morning when they are here he can be found hosting a small gathering of visitors to play boules, a French version of bocce, or vice versa depending on point of view. He is so patient, giving instruction that often puts him on a losing team, but he seems not to care. When he wants serious competition and real victories he goes to his local club, just steps from the public space we use.
Well…this is how our trips here generally begin. Shaking hands with the local café owners, seeing old friends, and wishing you all could be here with us. Ciao.
