Our final breakfast on the terrace at Schloss Berge with our favorite waitress. She was so excited for us that we were going to Paris, almost swooning when I told that was where we were headed. I put my hand on my heart and said, “Wir bringen Sie mit.” (We’re bringing you with us.) She clasped her hands under her chin, smiling and making a tiny bow. There were promises about “nächstes Mal” (next time) and seeing one another again. It didn’t matter that we knew that were not true; it was the heart’s desire that mattered.

The cab we had ordered the night before arrived early and we were on our way to the Oberhausen train station before 8 am. The day promised to be even warmer than the one before. This cab, finally, was air-conditioned, so I had hopes for a more comfortable day.

About 15 minutes and 80 Euros later (cabs in Germany charge extra for trips on the Autobahn), we were at the station and on our platform 1 hour and 45 minutes before our train. The desk clerk at Schloss Berge had suggested leaving at 8 am, so we had agreed, even though I thought it was awfully early. We found a long bench in the shade, settled our bags around us, and waited. We strategized about the best way to get all six bags onto the train: Santo would board first with his two small bags, I would move the larger bags to him and help him left them up and into the train, then I would board with my two small bags.

When I checked the electronic sign on our platform, I noticed Wagen (car) numbers for our train and letters which corresponded to large letter signs along the platform: A, B, C, D, E. We checked our tickets and realized for the first time that we had assigned seats. We were in Wagen 37, Seats 93 and 95, and should stand at letter E. This was at the far end of the platform, so a few minutes before the train was scheduled to arrive, we made our way there. When the train got there, we did not see any Wagen numbers, but I did notice on the car that pulled up in front of us the Seat Numbers 59 to 99. “This must be us,” I said to Santo. Luckily, I knew to press the button to open the doors. We knew the train would not stop long, so in the rush our well-laid plans went awry and we scurried to get everything up the steps and into the car. Somehow we did it!

Our seats were in the first compartment on the right. There were 5 seats, and 3 young men seated there. One was sleeping, but the other two were quick to help us with the heavy luggage. He managed to lift Santo’s garment bag, along with our hand luggage, up to the overhead rack. The largest suitcase we were able to place against the wall just outside the door and out of the way of the aisle. The young men moved so we could have our assigned seats: one by the window and the one next to that. They spoke perfect English and after thanking them profusely, we chatted for a bit. They asked if we had children, and I told them a son who was 30 and a daughter who was 26. “Those are exactly our ages!” one of them said.

The car was not as cool as I would have liked, but manageable. I was very tired, but was not able to sleep. This leg of the trip was only 2 hours anyway.

Changing trains in Frankfurt, we again strategized about the luggage. Several people were in the vestibule waiting with us and everyone offered to help. People are so nice. When the doors opened, before I knew it a tall black man lifted my suitcase and handed it down to Santo. Just like that we were on the platform. Our next train was two tracks away. We just needed to go to the end of our platform and over two tracks—all on the level.

The Frankfurt train station is large and open, so the warm air that clung to us from Gelsenkirchen continued to smother us. We found seats at a tall table, mostly for a place to drop our luggage while we waited. Santo went in search of food. I was too hot to eat. The train was at the platform early, so we made our way down to our assigned car number. We were lucky that just inside the doors was an area for large luggage and we were able to store both of our large bags as well as our carry-on luggage. We had two forward facing seats with plenty of legroom. Everyone else on the train, including Santo, seemed comfortable but I was still dripping with sweat. I felt like I had been waiting to get SOMEWHERE cool forever. Would it ever happen? My hopes were on Paris.

Our high-speed train traveled at over 300 kmh (that’s 186 mph) and got us to Paris in four hours. Since Paris was the last stop, we waited to get up and retrieve our luggage. Again, people around us were helpful and we were on the platform and on our way in no time. Cabs were waiting just outside the station. Next stop: Hotel de l’Abbye in St. Germain, our splurge accommodation.

Driving through Paris on our way to the hotel we were again overcome with the sheer beauty of this city. It is without equal. Street after street of light-colored buildings with wrought-iron French balconies, and enormous double doors painted in rich gem tones (deep greens, reds, and blues) that gave entrée to the inner courtyards. Sidewalk cafes dotted every block: beige-and-brown patterned chairs with bentwood backs and small round tables that seem to expand to accommodate whatever was ordered. All under the shade of striped awnings.

The hotel was on a narrow street. Gates opened to a courtyard with iron two tables and a red carpet leading to the double glass doors. At last!

Inside, everything was warm, welcoming, and elegant, including the staff. Several small “living rooms” made up the lobby, each with an intimate seating area of sofas and chairs, wall sconces, small lamps with striped shades on marble-topped tables, and café or coffee tables. The walls were of pale cherry wood, outlined with simple and elegant moldings. Original paintings with lighted frames lined the walls. Deep burgundy and gold carpeting tied all the rooms together and added to the overall feeling of ease and comfort.

The desk clerk and another man helped us get our bags to the room, a first floor chambre that opened onto the interior courtyard. The room had the same genteel tone as the lobby areas. It was not as large as we had expected, but it had a solarium that opened directly onto the courtyard furnished with a cushioned wall seat, a small table, and a comfy chair. And, blessedly, the room was air-conditioned! “Not as cool as you have in America,” the clerk said, and then showed us how to turn it to the coolest setting. As soon as he left, I collapsed onto the bed’s cool pillows. I had been waiting so long for this moment!

We decided to eat at the courtyard café of the hotel; I could not think of leaving this comfort until at least the morning. The café served light fare, which suited us perfectly. Santo wanted to eat right away, but I needed a shower and change before I would be ready to face the world. The walk-in marble shower was marvelous. Even though I had trouble understanding the complicated instructions for operating the rain head, hand held, and side jets, I managed to get the cool water I needed to come out of the hand held and doused myself, washing away the sweat, exhaustion, and frustration of the last few days. Unfortunately, I was not able to wash away the bronchitis that had been plaguing me, but I did feel better.

The courtyard was lovely, enclosed by the creamy walls of the building and overflowing with lush greenery. Water flowed gently from a tarnished bronze fountain mounted against the back wall. Seven or eight tables filled the space, some for two, some for four, each with cushioned chairs in shades of cream and blue. Santo ordered the Croque Monsieur, I had the gazpacho and avocado toast. The large white bowl of gazpacho looked like more than I could handle, but the saltiness of the tomato and vegetable puree was just the thing for my throat and I was more than happy to finish it.

Getting back to the crisp white sheets of our air-conditioned room, still fresh from my shower, I could hardly wait to fall into bed. The sensation of the first few minutes was pure delight. But I could not lay down for more than a few minutes before my hacking cough returned. The force of my exertions caused so much pressure in my skull that I thought my head would explode. Luckily, I still had the Ricola lozenges we had gotten in Rotheburg, but I had to have one in my mouth every minute, and even then the cough would break through. I barely slept. If I propped myself up on pillows, I could keep the cough at bay, but I could not sleep. If I lay down, the cough kept me awake. I was still very grateful to finally be cool, but I knew I had to do something about this sickness. It had just been too long and I was not getting better. And now my coughing was keeping Santo up, too.