We walked the path from the beach. The Convent emerged over the dune before us, reminding me of Le Mont St. Michel in Brittany; beautiful, yet imposing.
Already the incoming tide consumed the sand on the shore.
‘Do you think Trigger will be alright?’
Günter gazed over to the Convent and for some time remained silent.
Then, as we approached the imposing building, he pointed back at the beach. ‘I wanted to thank you for listening—back there.’
‘No problem. Any time.’ I was getting flippant again. I was unsure what he meant, but I was not about to make an issue over semantics for the second time in a day. Best agree and politely smile. I’d enjoyed a flight in Trigger and was floating on clouds still. Get serious! ‘I’m available—to listen.’ To tell the truth, listening I can do, finding the right words, that’s another matter. I say what I think and think what I say. And I’m not subtle. It will take me all my energy to engineer “subtle” to cheer up Günter who was again on the verge of melancholy.
‘Well, here we are!’
We strolled on a grand old path lined by tall poplars introduced to this planet from Earth, and up the marble steps to the building’s entrance. Towering over us now was the oak door of the Convent. All the structure needed to be complete would be a moat and a draw bridge.
We stood and marveled at the enormity of it all. ‘You would think giants lived here.’
Günter nudged me. ‘I heard they do.’
A good sign, I thought as I knocked.
The door squeaked open. ‘It’s automatic!’ I exclaimed.
‘Don’t talk so loud! You knock too hard!’
A bad sign.
‘Are you scared the giants will get us? Or perhaps the neighbours will hear and complain?’ I quipped. Johann, my old boyfriend, used to go on about noise and neighbours. What will they think? They might see—close the curtains…His paranoia annoyed me, but I wasn’t going to allow Günter’s comment to upset me. We both scanned the scene; no house for acres, apart from this mansion I assumed was the Convent, and the Chapel perched high on a hill behind it.
I pushed the door of the Convent wide open and peered inside. At present it seemed uninhabited.
‘Look, its empty. No one is home!’ I remarked.
‘Hmmm,’ was all Günter could muster.
‘Do we go in?’ I did not want to do the wrong thing and offend the owner.
‘It’s okay, we can go in.’ Günter answered. He apparently had knowledge of the local customs.
I gazed around at the high ceilings, the simple décor, and brown wooden beams inscribed with scripture. The sound carried waves crashing on the rocks. I was amazed at how in this building you could forget that you were on a far distant planet to Earth. Here you had a bit of Earth transplanted. You could ignore the purple sky and almost fool yourself into thinking that this was Earth. How funny we humans are? We go to the far corners of anywhere and we make ourselves at home by taking a bit of home with us and transplanting it there.
© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2019
Feature Photo: Le Mont St Michel © L.M. Kling 1998
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