In the late summer of 1985 Candia and I took the train to Deauville for a vacation from Paris. The closest beach was Deauville on le Manche or 'the 'the Sleeve' or the English Channel. The Normandy sea resort was not the Riviera, but it was only a two-hour train ride away. Deauville was out of my budget, so we stayed in the pleasant neighboring town, Trouville or 'city of a hole'. The weather was pleasant and after checking into a small hotel we went swimming at the broad sandy beach. The water was cool, but the sun was hot. Candia loved lying in the sun.
The first night I intended on dining at Les Vapeurs, except the famed seafood restaurant on Boulevar Francois Morceaux was closed, so we went to another eaterie. Starting with a bottle of Sancerre I decided to be adventurous and ordered something other than sole for my main course, however the raiee au beure noire was abominable and I sent it back. The cook came out and insulted me as an ignorant American. The waiters took his back. He might have been right, but I stood up, told Candida to leave, and then picked up a fork, asking ,"Oui, veux perde un œil?"
The threat of lossing of an eyeball was said in Boston-accented French.
The answer was silence, pobably not udnerstanding what I had said, but the fork in my hand translated the danger. I dropped 200 francs for the bottle of wine and carried it outside. Out on the foggy street Candida asked, "So now where do we eat?" We had a crepe. Candida was not happy, but was happier after I got us cups to drink the wine. It was nice to be out of Paris with someone you loved.
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