Hotel Cavendish, 11, Boulevard Carnot, Cannes
We’ve moved across Boulevard Carnot for our last night in Cannes this trip, the better to leave Françoise’s apartment as wonderful as we found it a month ago. We spent today packing our bags, washing sheets and towels, and getting ready for the cleaning lady who will come tomorrow morning. With everything pretty much done, I made a wrong move as I began to haul one of the big suitcases out the door, and wrenched my knee badly enough to require the ice-pack treatment for a few hours. It’s still a little sore, but this looks like a mild version of prior knee events, which in the bad old days featured nasty dislocations and weeks of recovery.
The Cavendish is a grand old hotel, and we have a rounded room with a tiny balcony looking toward the Mediterranean. The hotel’s bagagiste helped Darlene bring the bags across the street from the apartment as I sat on the bed with my ice pack. I thought to post a photo of our room partly because I so enjoyed a photo of the Lord Nelson Hotel by fellow Denver blogger Matthew Saunders, who is on vacation in Nova Scotia.
It’s hard to imagine that our three-month sojourn in France is nearly over, and that we were wearing warm coats when we arrived, at the end of March. We have been moving around so much that it takes very little time for a space to feel like home. Tonight, it’s room 430 at the Cavendish, with air conditioning, a deep tub for Darlene, and a kicking wi-fi connection. But real home is starting to beckon strongly, and in less than a week we will be reacquainting ourselves with the mile-high version of chez nous au Colorado.