Our Visit to Philippe's Guesthouse
Philippe stepped out into the parking lot to give us a warm welcome and immediately helped carry our luggage inside. After settling us into our cozy rooms, he warmly insisted on treating us to a delicious, home-cooked dinner.
We had been warned that Philippe was "very tall," and they certainly weren't exaggerating! The wonderful news is that his immense charm and graceful demeanor perfectly match his imposing stature.
He is a deeply interesting man—quick-witted and perpetually in a good mood. As fellow innkeepers, Judy and I were utterly amazed by his constant cheerfulness, especially once we realized just how much serious organization it takes to run L’Etoile.
He bustles tirelessly around the five-story guesthouse—vacuuming, scrubbing bathrooms, changing sheets, washing laundry, hanging it on the clothesline, and meticulously ironing pillowcases!
Yet, through it all, he sings, whistles, smiles, and seems genuinely delighted to greet the next wave of guests arriving in the afternoon. Somehow, he also manages to bake fresh bread daily, prepare a delicious homemade soup from scratch, and orchestrate an incredible multi-course evening meal for the hungry hikers and cyclists who flock to his door.
Our stay with Philippe was characterized by this exact same warmth. He is wonderfully unpretentious, gracious, and gentle, always ensuring that each visitor feels as though they are his only guest. There were usually about fifteen of us gathered around the large dining table. Naturally, we happily lent a hand clearing plates and finishing the dishes in his beautiful, spacious kitchen overlooking the garden.
Language quickly ceases to be a barrier once the delicious food arrives. We found ourselves surrounded by Belgians and French guests, amidst a lively mix of Flemish, French, and a handful of English words. Yet, we managed to laugh, share stories, and enjoy a profound camaraderie rarely found in modern American culture. We learned the names of our table companions each evening, and with those willing to try a bit of English, we discovered fascinating details about their families, careers, and lives.
I have always regretted not speaking a foreign language, and I felt it even more deeply when I discovered that our Belgian friends had learned English simply by watching Sesame Street on television!
Jack and Lisette were a lovely, quiet couple who spoke a little English. They return to Philippe’s every year to enjoy the profound tranquility of L’Etoile. One morning, Philippe offered to drive us to Le Puy-en-Velay to stock up on provisions. We enthusiastically accepted, and when he mentioned that Jack and Lisette would be joining us, we were thrilled for the chance to get to know them better.
We all pitched in to help Philippe quickly clean up and prep the evening meal so we could be gone for the day. By 10 a.m., we piled into his van and set off. Along the way, Philippe made a stop in the medieval village of Pradelles. We stepped out onto ancient cobblestones, wandering among perfectly preserved stone houses and impeccably clean streets.
It always struck us how immaculate the French villages were—we never saw any litter, graffiti, or signs of neglect or economic hardship.
Later, sitting on an outdoor veranda in Loubaresse that overlooked the sprawling valley, we felt as though we were gazing at the edge of the world. Birds sang and flitted through the trees, cows grazed peacefully on the opposite hillside, and a cat basked luxuriously in the sun on a patio just below us. The food was simply too delicious to adequately describe. Philippe kindly refrained from drinking wine so he could safely navigate the narrow, winding mountain roads on our way back, leaving us free to indulge in a delightful, leisurely afternoon.
We struck up a conversation with a German couple at the next table who had retired to this tiny, beautifully restored 12th-century village and felt completely integrated into the local French life.
Our final stop of the day was the Monastère Notre-Dame des Neiges, located just a few kilometers from La Bastide-Puylaurent. We explored its impressive wine cellars and marveled at the massive wooden barrels.
"Grandma, I just want to go back to Philippe’s, wake up in the morning, and eat bread!" My 12-year-old grandson, Tyler, declared shortly after our return from this perfect French vacation. We had spent our entire trip at L’Etoile with our dear friend Philippe Papadimitriou. Initially, I had been quite apprehensive about traveling deep into rural France with my friend and fellow innkeeper, Judy Jacobs, and young Tyler.
I had booked our entire two-week stay in one place with a man I didn’t personally know, despite having exchanged emails for over a year and a half. Friends and family thought I was taking a massive risk organizing an innkeeper exchange with a stranger. I had originally planned to take the train from Paris to La Bastide, but they persuaded me to rent a car just in case we needed an 'escape route'. In the end, that escape route was the furthest thing from our minds.
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