We ate at a tiny, packed place on the harbor. Since we had an early flight the next morning, none of us were adventurous enough to eat anything too exciting.
Henri, on the other hand, ordered a huge seafood platter. I recognized mussels and shrimp. Everything else came in shells that were entirely new to me. I tried to figure out what they were and I filed most of them under: “I don’t know how I feel about putting that in my mouth but I might try it once.” He loved everything.
We were well into the evening when we got back to the car and started to make the long trek back to Paris. It was after 1 am when got back to the city.
The streets were very quiet. It felt like it was just us and the streetlights awake.
Henri, bolstered by a quick espresso stop earlier and his omnipresent zest for both adventure and talking, turned to us and asked, with genuine excitement, if we wanted him give us a tour of Paris.
We sleepily declined. It would be a miracle if we got even two hours of sleep since we still had to pack and be ready to leave for the airport at 6 o'clock. He dropped us off at the hotel and we said our goodbyes.
Looking back now, I wish we had let him take us around. Who needs sleep when can speed through Paris with an eccentric French tour guide at dawn?
So that, in six parts, is the story of our day trip to Normandy. Henri actually stole the show. I think it's really the story of the time we let a kooky tour guide with a barely street legal car and a penchant for raw milk take us for an amazing ride through space and time.
I wouldn’t change any part of it for anything.