L'addition Standoff

If there's one point of contention that my mother and I have come to discover between us, it's the L'addition Standoff - the standoff for the check. No, not to pay the check. We split our meals. Rather, it's the sweat-inducing, nerve-wrecking, patience-testing wait for the check after dinner.

Having traveled in Europe before, I know all too well that you must bravely ask for the check, as they won't dare bring it to you. Otherwise, you may as well pull out your Coolmax Sleep Sac from your backpack, put two chairs together, curl up and call it a night right there in the restaurant. You can wait for eternity, but no slip of paper will come. Problem is my mother and I never know how long to wait to ask for it. We don't want to seem like hurried Americans. So we wait, twiddling our thumbs (above the table, of course, since it's bad manners in France to rest them underneath), and wait, even though our aching bodies want nothing more than to return to our hotel room and pass out.

So the standoff boils down to this... who will swallow their pride and ask for "l'addition, s'il vous plait"? Like Old West gunslingers we stare one another down, eyes narrowed into slits, hands lightly fingering our wallets, eyebrows raised in expectation, refusing to be the one to bring the hammer down on the meal. We have been known to wait nearly an hour, until tears forming in my eyes, I sigh a deep sigh and flag down the waiter. Even then, they look at me like, 'leaving so soon?!', as if it's in poor taste to only wait an hour after finishing the dessert. I mean how long can you drink water and stare at the wall after licking your plate clean? Good conversation has usually been used up on the trail, so the standoff is a silent one. Deadly silent. And deadly serious.

Last night mom won again, using the excuse that she's the one doing all the ordering. And, yes, she's right. But in the game of l'addition standoff, all bets are off.


A pilgrim gate in Grabel village - yesterday's starting point outside Montpellier.





Moving into more mountainous territory.





Clearly marked paths the whole way. Two Stooges no more?


7-mile break. We can't find a patisserie, until I spy people turning a corner with baguettes. Baguette sleuthing leads us to the best pain aux raisins I've ever had.


Coming into Aniane, the village where we stayed the night. But the magical story of La Colombe Verte is for another blog...

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Location:Taverns de L'Escuelle, Saint Guilhem le Desert, France