The Normandy Chronicles: Day Two: Wet Wipes n' Cider

As we drove away from the twin psycho towns of Le Tréport and Mers-les-Bains, we took one last look from the cliffs that really are the most magnificent part of the area. And from this vantage point, far above, the towns and their dog crap statistics became insignificant.
The sun was starting its descent as we drove along little country roads on our way to the B&B where we would rest our weary heads for the night. We were still feeling a bit like we were leaving The Twilight Zone until we stumbled upon Yet Another Castle.
"Castle! Towers! Rapunzel!" I screamed. "Screeeeech!" Galadriel, ever so pleased to accommodate my fairytale fantasies, slammed on the brakes and did a back-up to the entrance to the fourteenth century Chateau Fort de Rambures. The gates were closed, but we got out and walked up to the ticket kiosk, where we encountered a handsome young man as he was closing up shop for the evening. I left Galadriel to flirt with him while I checked out the scenery. She told him about The Twilight Zone because we needed to know that we weren't crazy. He affirmed that the people in Le Tréport and Mers-les-Bains are very strange, and have had a rivalry going on between them for many years. I'm glad we left them to fling dog droppings at each other into the next century.
I don't know why I loved this little castle so much. Maybe because of those fat round towers in the front or the moat around it. But it really appealed to me. It's been in the same family for 600 years. I wish I could have seen the rose gardens, but I did get to see all the beautiful shades of green - bright green grass, silver-green and blue-green leaves. Lovely.
The only thing that marred the scenery was a goofy setup of mannequins in dishevelled medieval clothing, standing around ancient farm implements. I was taking a picture of a post card in the kiosk window so I could remember the name of the Chateau later, and I didn't realize until now that one of the mannequins is reflected in the window on the left. You can see my face and hair and blue scarf reflected on the right.
It reminded me of Frontier Town in Arizona, with mannequin cowboys sittin' around the campfire, their wagons circled around them, while pioneer wenches served them pork n' beans in tin pie plates. I expected a reenactment of the shoot-out at the OK corral at any moment. Except with armor and chain maille and lances, and stuff.
I also noticed (because my last name isn't Wines for nuthin') the bottle of special cider from the castle which was for sale in the kiosk. I don't know if it's made at the castle or if it's of any quality worth writing home about, but it looked awfully good after our unsuccessful attempt at getting fed and watered with the dogs of Le Treport. So, when I pointed it out to Galadriel, she asked the friendly ticket man if there was any cider available...cold? (Recipe for success: Soften voice. Blink eyelashes, twice). He said sure, and left the kiosk for the castle.
While we waited, I was busy taking pictures and didn't notice that Galadriel had dissappeared. This always bothers me because every time she dissappears, I'm certain that something bad will happen to me. Like the ticket guy on the train will come and demand to punch my ticket. Which is in Galadriel's purse. Which she took with her. Or that the castle man will come back with our cider and I'll have to TALK to him in FRENCH. Or, the scariest thing of all, she will find a great photo opportunity before I do. We (I should say "I") have a small competition in this area.
So, I went looking for her in the parking lot across from the castle. I saw her, flitting in and out of the bushes. Like a bird.
"What are you doing?" I asked, suspiciously, wondering if she'd found a rare Phainopepla and had gotten the million-Euro shot.
"Trying to find a place to pee." She glanced at me sideways, guilty.
"Oh. Uh. Sorry! Do you need my wet wipes?"
"Um. No. Thanks."
Nobody let us pee in The Twilight Zone, either. I probably had to go too, but forgot about my "special" needs when confronted with the awesomeness of a new castle.
Mister Castle Keeper returned with a dripping, cold bottle of cider and two plastic cups. What a guy. Luckily, Galadriel had finished her ablutions and could talk to him, pay him and say goodbye to him while I stood there mute, but eager. It's my new MO in France, when surrounded by French people. Mute, but eager. I do have a brain, and I'm sure everything you are saying is brilliant, and I'm so very eager to know everything you know, I just can't speak. Really. Bonjour. Au revoir.
We paid him and thanked him and went and stood by the car and Galadriel opened the bottle. It exploded all over her dress. Of course, NOW she was glad to have my wet wipes. Even though she secretly wonders about this strange American wet wipe affliction of mine. Just one more reason for us to laugh hysterically while she changed her clothes in the car.
After all, she had to look respectable (and drunk from cider) because we were soon to arrive at this impeccable, elegant place. Ooh lah laaah.