Fresh Croissants; Dinner with Henri
Fresh Croissants
Allyn and I are committed to no weight gain on this trip. We got up and did a good brisk walk and returned for several sets of tough aerobic activities. Getting ready for breakfast we discussed how well we have been eating and another healthy me
al was imminent.
The captain tricked us. He had snuck out and returned with a few goodies including fresh croissants. You know you are in France when your croissants are so fresh that they are still warm from the bakery. We had no choice but to sample them, if for no other reason to compare them to those obtained in the next port.
Then we set sail for Bandol, four hours west by yacht, for a business meeting. We didn’t literally set sail because we are on a motor yacht, but it sounds very chic to me.
Dinner with Henri
Besides travel, I am also in the poker business (www.CardPlayer.com and
www.SpadeClub.com). Our magazine, Card Player, is published around the world in over ten languages. We are fortunate that our French licensee is Imprimerie Rockson, one of the largest printers in France. The owner, Henri Papazian, has expanded his empire to include publishing, marketing, advertising, Internet construction and design, and virtually everything else media oriented.
I was honored that Mr. Papazian insisted my family spend the day with him on his yacht, not far away. It sounded fun, even though I don’t speak French and his English is worse than my French.
My people spoke to his people and we were all looking forward to playing “Let’s see who has the biggest yacht.” Of course ours is just a loaner and he owns his, but what the hey?
Sadly, that just wasn’t in the cards (pun intended). Since the seas were too rough we ducked in to Cavalaire-sur-Mer where we moored for the evening at the charming seaside resort. Henri and his entourage came down by car to join us for a dinner by the sea.
The food, service and ambiance were all superb, but the company made the meal. My son, Michael, saved that day with his interpretive skills. Finally that summer that I financed when he was supposed to be in school (but was actually on the beach and in the discos) in Nice, France some 18 years ago, was giving me a return on my investment.
Henri was quite impressed when the waiter somehow knew who I was and asked for my autograph. (Frankly, I was baffled.) We even accomplished some business, and a good time was had by all.
