The proprietor greeted us through his thick
moustache, and we immediately liked him. After check-in, he picked up my heavy
suitcase in one hand and David’s in the other and trotted at a steady pace up two flights
of stairs to our room (no elevator). Every morning and evening, he made us a large pot of
coffee with our own Maxwell House and brought it to us at one of the cabana-style
seating groups in the lobby bar, where we admired his own handiwork. I asked him if he
had worked on the place himself ("yes"), and he beamed with pride when I exclaimed,
He was so . . . French! And, so was Hotel Val de Loire.
shined with an immaculate care I associate with "French provincial." No smudges,
cracks, or scratches ruined the perfection, for he would have fixed them pronto! The
second night, we had crispy clean sheets again. Our room was small, but pleasant, and
not so small that we couldn’t move around. It was sparsely furnished with shelves by the
bed, desk and chair, large wooden closet, and an extra stool. Our two-tone mustard
yellow paper with single flower design resembled fleur de lis, and two sets of
French doors let in plenty of light.
Only one minor detail annoyed us. The doors had
only sheers on their glass, and the bathrooms (2 separate rooms) were too small for
clothing and dressing. ("Hey, that’s what the stool is for!") It was just outside the
bathroom door--every problem had at least been anticipated and resolved! We
enjoyed the view of the neighborhood.
English are coming!
We met an Englishman in the lounge who had driven over. He
made a few snied, but comical remarks about "Gee-orge Dubbee-ya Bush" before he and
his wife were off to visit the chateau. His booming voice made the most noise we heard our
The diningroom was as perfect and pleasant as the rest of Hotel Val
de Loire. A paved space outside has tables in warmer weather. We felt at home here
and will return. (Our double was 72 euros.)
Goodbye, goodbye to the "pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)."--E. E. Cummings
The night before we left, we asked the
proprietor if he would be up early enough to call us a taxi. (He rises at 7:30.) We
decided to forget making the 7:36 train and settled on the 8:10. (If you don’t get to the
station at least for the 8:58, you can’t get out of town until late afternoon.) Our taxi was
a little early in front of the hotel--but no driver! He was chatting with our host until we
began to get nervous, and then he speeded the 1.2 miles down the main drag as the
"pretty how town" flashed past our window.
No need to worry! We were just in time.