It's always a meeting story

It's always a meeting story, a click story, a human story.

Aubrac, 40 inhabitants all year round. This afternoon it was hot, we had finished our stage of the day quite early.

The boys (I mean the three boys: 12 years old, 7 years old ... and 34 years old) were playing in the village square.

They had the firm intention of emptying the fountain with a lot of water fight. There was this old stone guest house, right next door. And surely beers. "Here, it says Épicerie", that's good, I like local crafts.

"It's not a desire to undertake, you don't get up one morning with the desire to undertake", she told me with a decidedly obviousness, "Creating is a necessity. Something that imposes itself and leaves no choice".

The legend says that a count of Flemish origin. named Adalard, during his pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, made a vow to God that if he came out unscathed from the many dangers presented by Aubrac in the 12th century (brigands, bad weather and very few landmarks against the attacks of wolves ), he would build a reception center for pilgrims in these highlands. He kept his word since in 1120 the first buildings of the monastery-hospital were built to serve the poor (source: Aubrac Laguiole tourisme)

It was said at that time that once past the Aubrac plateau, it is as if one had arrived at Compostela, the area was so perilous.
Apart from nothing, there was (almost) nothing. If not a hotel, a pilgrim welcome and a guest house. Guided by my curiosity, which I don't often try to upset, I entered this guest house and found a woman lying on a sofa, all dressed in linen:

"Sit down for two minutes, take your time, there is time here". I took the time there was here. She was personable and funny. She told me about her dolls that she made as a child to help her parents who had experienced a reversal of fortune and that she wanted to help at all costs, of her "madness" (sic) with Scotland, of her castles that she was retyping, sentimental scams suffered.
We chatted for a while, about life, its hazards, encounters that happen, we don't know why, at the right time, guided by I don't know what.

- "You must know something about it, you are not here by chance".

She seemed to have had an incredible life. Of these women of whom we say "but what a woman" and so incredible, that I end up asking her:
- "But who are you? And how did you buy these castles?" - "Ah, well, when I stopped Tartine!"

I had been talking for three quarters of an hour with the founder of Tartine et Chocolat, the one who had run it for twenty years.

Of life, of its encounters, of its chances.

What she didn't know, what I didn't tell her, way too much abs orb by the desire to listen to it, it is that I too was about to launch my brand of ready-to-wear for children, this project started several years ago, and of which I I never managed to get rid of myself.


I hadn't fought yet at that time. But beaten, myself I mean. Finally, it's not in life that you have to fight, it's not against the elements. You have to beat yourself.

In my head, I was saying, “That's exactly it, it's imperative. I have no choice not to. But my mouth said, "Yes, that's for sure, yes."
Well, let's clearly say that I took this meeting as a sign, huh, no need to procrastinate for a hundred and seven years to reach this shattering conclusion.

I returned to Paris with my encounter "à la Saint Jacques de Compostelle" in my pocket, determined not to stop there.

This time.

#compostelle #viapodiensis