It was shortly after the end of World War II, we were driving from Paris to the Riviera (Yes, you little pipsqueak, they had cars back then}. It was a protracted journey, our car, an old La Salle that had been up on blocks throughout the war, broke down at least twice a day. One such breakdown occured in Montelimar, a mid size town in the Rhone valley. I found us a three star hotel, the three star Relais de l'Empereur, so named because Napoleon had stayed the night on his way to Paris on his return from Elba. (The following, successive headlines in a Paris newspaper of the day are an object lesson in the susceptibility of the media to the changes in politcal climate: The Corsican Monster Reported To Have Fled Elba. Bonaparte Lands in France. Napoleon in Lyon. The Emperor Makes His Triumphal Entry Into Paris). We had a well appointed, large room with a marble bath. We both ate a copious four course dinner and drank a good Cotes du Rhone. I made a longish phone call to Paris to get advice on what to do about the car The next morning we had a full breakfast. The bill for ALL of this came to eight dollars and fifty cents. Now, one has to keep in mind that the French economy was still in shambles from the war; the dollar was king, while it had been pegged at five French francs before the war it was now trading at 350; and these were the provinces. For all the obvious reasons you won't be able to replicate the experience today, but it remains ineradicably etched in my memory. Anyway, the next day we were in Cannes and back in the real world.
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