“There must be something open somewhere,” David said. For the next two hours, we followed ambiguous signs back and forth, taking almost every exit at every roundabout, until we alighted upon the French version of Walmart — only this clothing/home decor/toy/food store also contained a cheese-and-meat counter.
“It’s not what I was hoping for,” I said, once we were back in our room. I opened a plastic package of olives while David laid out two kinds of sliced meat and small packets of Boursin cheese beside a triangle of Brillat-Savarin. “But with enough wine and that view out the window, I don’t think I’ll notice the difference.”
David didn’t hide his disappointment in the bread. “If we get up extra early,” he said, “we can grab a baguette on the way to the airport.”
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