Chapter 19 Chapter Nineteen

It was four o'clock, and the sun was still casting incredible heat overhead.Entering from the terrace, Ennis had just discussed the dietary requirements of a vegetarian from Düsseldorf, and returned cheerfully to his office behind the counter.The restaurant is on a lunch break, the lunch has been cleaned up, and the dinner table has been set up properly. A row of almost motionless bodies by the pool are trying their best to expose themselves, occasionally turning their bodies like roast chickens.Probably nothing will happen until six o'clock.Ennis asked Franseva to go to dinner first, and he settled down to deal with the liaison work of the day and deal with a large stack of reservation letters.This season, he thought, looked pretty good.

He heard the door open, footsteps and loud breathing.He pushed the letter aside and stood up. Someone shouted: Hey, is anyone there? Ennis had never seen such a burly young man.He was well over six feet tall and muscular.He was wearing black cyclist shorts and a sweat-darkened tank top with big letters: University of Texas, best four or five years of your life.He has short and neat hair, blue eyes, and a bright smile, showing beautiful teeth that seem to only be found in the United States. Ennis said: Good afternoon, how can I help you? Are you OK?The young man held out his hand, I am Bernie.Where's Parker?Where am I looking for Simon Xiao?Like many Americans, he likes to raise his voice after every sentence, turning narratives into questions.

Bernie, nice to meet you.We've been waiting for you, I'm Ennis.The young man nodded. Mr. Simon Xiao will be here in a moment.I think you can have a drink first.He picked up the phone and called the bar downstairs.what do you want to drink? Can I have two bottles of beer?That must be great! Ennis said: Of course, one bottle in each hand! Boni drank a bottle of beer in one breath, sighed happily and said: God, I really need this.I came by bicycle!He smiled at Ennis.You have some steep hills here. As he sips the second beer at a slower pace, he talks to Ennis about his impressions of France.He thought France was pretty tidy, although he didn't meet many girls.Still, it's great to be in the cycling capital, as cycling is one of his passions, or as he puts it, a thrill.Beyond that, there's cooking.He couldn't decide what he wanted to be like Greg.A culinary master like Greg Lemond, and a bicycle king Paul.Poni Baouo.It's a competition of wheels and dishes.

It was hard for Ennis to imagine the genial young man hunched over the stove, or chopping shallots with his big hands.Bernie attributed it to heredity. Ernie, my dad has been wallowing in food.Food factor in my blood?I've been cooking just scrambled eggs and some refried beans since I was nine; now I really want to go into the world of food.do you know?I almost got into culinary school in Paris.In a place like that, if you can't make ketchup with one hand tied behind your back, you're going to get spanked.I love this French thing so much. Ennis said: Well, young Bernie, I think you should meet our chef.How do you speak French?

Boni scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders and said: Isn't this very clever?My Spanish is pretty good, but I guess it won't work.I'm working on it!He drank the last sip of beer and looked at the clock behind the desk.I have to go.I have class at five o'clock. I will tell Mr. Xiao that you have been here. certainly.Ernie, it was a pleasure talking to you.Take it easy, you hear me? Ennis stood behind the door and watched him ride off on the pedals of his bicycle.What a charming young man, he thought!And there's no sign of being spoiled at all, he's not what you'd expect a millionaire kid to be.Although, some of what he said was still confusing.take it easy?Ennis shook his head and went back to his office.

Nicole and Simon were flushed with shame at having spent the afternoon in bed.When they got to the hotel, Franseva and Ennis were being cornered by an angry petite lady.Simon recognized it as the wife of the voyeur next door.His smile met a stern nod.The lady believed that a hotel guest was sunbathing naked.Simon tried to look utterly alarmed and convinced the lady that it was probably because she was wearing a swimsuit of the same complexion, their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of an indignantly blushing French guest.He asked Ennis to find a way to stop the voyeur who had been staring at his wife by the fence, and he didn't move a step.It's incredible.

When the two found out that each other was the source of their anger, there was a brief silence.Then they turned their backs and continued to complain to the hotel management. Reckless voyeur! Exhibitionist! unbearable! The wrath of man and god! Simon gently led his wife to the door, nodding solemnly.On Ennis' side, he was also desperately trying to appease the angry husband.Nicole and Francesca entered the office with a straight face.A few minutes later, Simon also entered the office, but his expression did not look like a diplomat who had won a battle. He told them: I don't know what you're laughing at.This is a moral crisis.Ma'am told me so.

Francesca giggled: Why don't you buy a shorter ladder for her husband! Simon patted his forehead and said: Of course, it's nice to have a brain that can guess French logic! He and Nicole joined Ennis, who had already plastered the irritated husband with a champagne for two, the hotelier's secret weapon.Ennis was humming happily by now, checking the table setting in the dining room.He told them Bernie.Pike's visit, saying he was a very amiable young man, well built, then took a letter from his pocket.This letter to the hotel just arrived, but I think it's for you.So he handed the letter to Simon, you have an uncle who is an artist?If it is true, then you have done a great job of keeping it secret!

Simon looked at Dou Da's handwriting on the paper headed by the words San Marco Nursing Home: Hello, young man: I have heard that you have opened a hotel in Venice, and my muse and I are sharing the beauty of that wonderland with 50,000 Japanese tourists.Painting is no longer possible.I look forward to light and space, the smell of thyme and lavender, a kiss on the skin like honey, the spectacular scene of peaks connecting to the blue sky.Ah, Provence! I still have enough money to buy a train ticket to Yavii, and I'll tell you the time of arrival so you can make arrangements.I'm in no rush to return to Norfolk right away, so we'll have time to develop those bonds that I've always cherished.

Soon, we can meet in France! love your uncle william Note: Some art critics now call me Goya of Norfolk.It would be too modest of me if I continued to argue with them.Honey, I'll bring some pretty naked girls.My paintbrush is ready to move! Damn it!Simon hands the letter to Nicole.I don't remember telling you about him, do I? Nicole frowned at the letter.Your uncle is a famous artist? Not as well known as he wanted to be.I see him about every three or four years, and he's always on the brink of bankruptcy, running away from the widow he'd promised to marry.Simon paused, looking at Ennis.We can't let him occupy a room for long.He would think he could die here.Then we can never get rid of him.

Ennis said: In that case, we'd better help him find a widow, that Uncle William, can you still see someone? Simon recalled the last time he saw his uncle, wearing an old suit, a shirt left over from the army, and an old MCC tie, like an unmade bed.Smells like whiskey and turpentine.Well, he is not the handsome guy most people think, but women seem to like him. Ah, there is hope for finding him a widow like this, Nicole.Ennis waved to couples coming from the pool to go upstairs to get dressed for dinner.I have to go.Tonight, the restaurant is full.All the Luberon had heard of Mrs. Pan's reputation.He straightened the tablecloth on the nearest table and headed for the kitchen. Nicole said: "He's just right for the job and he couldn't be happier.You know, they all love him. really weird!Our situation is just the opposite of what it was in London.I almost felt that I had to make an appointment with him to see him.You know what he said to me?We should find a day, have lunch, and talk.This old fellow with infinite vitality!Simon laughed and said: That's exactly what I once said to him. Do you worry about this? Simon looked down at her face, her half-smiling face didn't match the serious eyes.Oh, I'll always get used to it. Nicole reached out and straightened the wrinkled collar of his shirt.How can someone get themselves so messy just by walking around?If you don't like it, be sure to say it, don't be too wishful! That's right!He glanced at her, put his hands on her hips, and lifted her off the ground, burying his face in her neck.A waiter who came out of the kitchen stopped still and whispered: I wish you a good appetite.He went back through the door. It wasn't surprising that Simon figured it out a little later, since so many people have big dreams about running a restaurant.He looked around the terrace, there was no empty seats, the faces under the candlelight were vivid and unusual, and the laughter disappeared into the sky like this.Ennis stooped so that the guests didn't have to look up at him, and he greeted each table to their satisfaction.This may seem like a no-brainer.Looking at such a relaxed and leisurely scene, who can imagine the painstaking effort behind it and the panic scene in the kitchen not to get out of control? The sweat, the swearing, the spilled stuff.And a good waiter has to come out of the chaos and show others with a calm expression, calm gestures, and earnest intentions. Simon tried to classify people of various nationalities according to stereotypes.The men and women who ordered Boer wine instead of local wine, with their firm, overexposed skin and excessive jewellery, were supposed to be Germans, muscular, tall and loud-talking.The table covered by cigarette smoke must be French; the non-smoking, drinking more water than alcohol must be American; the British will spread butter on bread and order the most sumptuous dessert; The Swiss look quite neat when eating, with their elbows on the table, a sip of wine and water.Simon couldn't help laughing as he watched Ennis shuttle from table to table, taking care of everyone.He looked like he had been running the restaurant for years.As Nicole said, this person has found a place where he can use his strengths.Simon thought, and he himself was still looking? Now that the challenge of getting the hotel up and running was over, he felt an anticlimactic feeling.Ennis and Nicole have taken control of the overall situation, everything is running fairly regularly, and the only person who doesn't have a proper job is the operator.Might he spend the next few years shuttling between guests like this, placating his exasperated neighbors?How is this different from dealing with clients and with Jigler, Jordan and others?Although the level of the problem varies, the skills to solve it are the same: it is nothing more than strategy, patience and bullshit. Simon smiled and nodded as he passed each table, then left the restaurant and went upstairs.Nicole and Franseva were in the office, drinking a bottle of wine together, working hard in a stack of documents.There was nothing he could do to help.Nicole waved him to leave, and blew a kiss to him, telling him to see you at home.He walked out into the cooler night sky, and saw that the cafe was still brightly lit, so he went in, wanting to have a glass of wine and find someone to chat with. Crouch sat at a table against the wall, looking up from the Sunday Times in his hand.There was only half a glass left in the wine glass in front of him.He should have eaten something.He glared at Simon's back in disgust, the drink starting to sour in his stomach. Escaping from your tourist friends? Hearing Crawford's voice, Simon searched the bar until he recognized the hostile face and turned to drink his drink. What's wrong?Do you only talk to rich Germans?Kiss his asshole and earn his money?Crouch finished his drink and said with a smile: Of course, you have a lot of experience.Advertisers are good at this stuff. Simon sighed and walked over to the table in Craw.Crawford looked up at him, and it was a great honor for the boss to come. I thought, you're drunk, why don't you go home? You didn't run the coffee shop.Crouch fiddled with the empty glass with his fingers, leaning back in his chair.Or is this another plan of yours?Renovate the cafe and make it a new base for tourists? Simon hesitated for a while, wanting to leave.Feeling a little offended, he sat down.You are not a tourist yourself, you just arrived earlier than everyone else.You're no more native than I am, and, to put it bluntly, you're just a hypocrite who slams the fear of progress in a column, but if it fits your progress, it doesn't matter. is that so? Of course it is.You have a telephone, a fax, and electricity.I guess you should have a bathroom.That's progress too, isn't it? And how would you describe people who only invade and live here for two months a year? I guess, you'd rather have the house rot.You know as well as I do that young people have already left, because they would rather work in the city than quietly work in the countryside.Without tourism, some villages would have been reduced to dead cities long ago. Crow District sneered for a while, where did I seem to have heard such an argument? This happens to paint a real picture. So we have to indulge in the golf courses, the boutiques and those disgusting cottages and the traffic jams, I guess what you mean by saving a village from becoming a dead city? Tourism is a way of life, it depends on how you respond.But you can't ignore it and hope it just goes away. Mr. Xiao, as you know, I have not ignored it. Simon's wine was gone, and his patience was exhausted.Yes, you didn't ignore it.Instead, you rely on it to make a lot of black-hearted money. Sometimes, you haven't even put your name on it. Crawford looked at him, the smile on his sly, drunken face.I don't know what you're talking about.There are still people who agree with me that tourism is a vulgar epidemic. Simon pushed back his chair and stood up.So where do those people in your mouth go on holiday?Or do they just stay at home and pretend to be good? What an unsatisfactory debate, Simon thought as he left the café.If it wasn't for this drunk reporter, he still wanted to continue the debate.He stood for a moment, looking at the faded blue-black night sky, and admitted that he was really intoxicated by the situation.This is already different from the kindness and kindness required by professional masters, so he began to think.Tourism has turned much of the Mediterranean coastline into a crowded, polluted nightmare.Will such a nightmare spread to Provence?Or have some lessons been learned?Crawford, even though he was a fake gentleman and a phony, had his own point of view.Simon smiled to himself in the dark.He might be coming to his senses. Bernie.Pike developed the habit of riding to the hotel almost every afternoon. On the one hand, he watched Mrs. Pan busy in the kitchen with interest, and on the other hand, he tried to overcome the language barrier between him and Franseva.Simon and Ennis found it quite entertaining to watch them testing each other out like animals, trying to bridge the gap between Texas English and Provençal French.Bernie can now order beer in French, and Francesca has also learned to express in English how I wish you a good day and how are you.One afternoon, as they advanced to the point of identifying body parts, their study was interrupted by a phone call from Yavii Station.Uncle William has arrived from Venice. When Simon found him, he was in the station bar, drinking a glass of anisette and fanning the wind with his battered yellow Panama hat.He wore what appeared to be the jacquard trousers that Simon had worn on the last time he was seen (baggy and drab with age), and a crumpled cream-yellow linen coat of the sort worn by an aging British People are used to wearing it when they go to warm foreign countries.His face, rosy and sweaty under thin silver hair, brightened as Simon picked up the pile of luggage between the tables. Dear boy, how happy I am to see a familiar face in a foreign country, and it is a brown and healthy face.You look fine.You must get along very well with Provence, why not?He smoothed his hair, put on his hat, drank the last drop of anisette, shuddered, and patted his pockets.Just a small formality and we're good to go.He grabbed a handful of change and looked at it dejectedly, as if he expected to pull out a handful of bills.Ah, do you think they will take lire (Note: Italian currency.)? Simon paid the bill, picked up the two broken suitcases that Uncle William waved to him, and followed him to the parking lot.The old man stopped so suddenly that Simon almost ran into him.Behold, guardian of the ecclesiastical city!His arms were outstretched, pointing to the fort down the road.The luster of history, the shock caused by the light!How fascinating!How ecstasy!I have been agitated by the muse of inspiration (note: the general name of the nine ancient goddesses of literature and art in Greek mythology who preside over art and science.) Stirred into a daze! Let's get out of the bus lane now! Uncle William snatched the cigar from Simon's car and lit one contentedly.He said: Living in Venice was really not a happy experience.Crowds, high prices, disgusting pigeons everywhere, and local misconceptions about pensions, I don't regret leaving there at all.What a joy to find aid and shelter in Provence!Under the sunshine of Provence, the artist must be able to make a difference. Uncle William, I have a little difficulty with aid and shelter.Hotel occupancy rates are quite high. Those are the subsections, dear ones.you know mine.My needs are few and simple.He took a deep drag on his Havana cigar.All you need is a haul bed, a bowl of soup, and some dry, hard bread.All I want is the noble and simple life of an ascetic. Simon understood what he meant.Do you still have enough money? Uncle William was flicking the ashes of his cigar and blowing on the shiny end.Oops!I'm not entirely immune to the downturn, either. You are broke! I have cash flow difficulties. Are you broke? I am waiting for payment. Still waiting, the same sum? Uncle William would not dwell on his financial problems, and turned his attention to the beauty of the country.They left the suburbs of Aviyi, passing the whore next to the BMW, now in summer shorts and gold heels.William held up his hat graciously, whispering: Charming!So charming!Simon shook his head, wondering what to do with his uncle who was likely to stay for a long time.He could stay in the hotel for a week, but never longer than that.A week later, the rooms were full. Dear child, what are you thinking? I'm wondering where to put you.How long do you plan to stay? Uncle William murmured happily to himself as they passed a field of sunflowers, each row of sunflowers facing the same direction, as if someone had arranged them one by one.Who knows?a month?See how many years it took Cézanne to paint Mont Sainte-Victoire.Holding a cigar, he pointed at the sight in front of him.Such breathtaking scenery, the cliffs, the olive trees, and the green vines, must be savored like fine wine and not swallowed whole.I am very sure that the change of seasons will definitely bring me great inspiration.He leaned in and patted Simon's knee.Being able to be with loved ones adds a little more joy. Simon just murmured to himself: That's what I'm afraid of. As expected, Uncle William was immediately attracted to the hotel, and he was clearly not a fool to see that Ennis was a valuable ally.Within an hour, he offered to paint him.He said: "His head, with its classic proportions, reminded me of certain Roman emperors.And when he insisted on including Mrs. Gibbon curled up at Ennis' feet in the painting, he undoubtedly had established a good relationship with Ennis.Goya, of Norfolk, is about to make the most of this summer.