Odin has a place in France

What is love to you, in just one word?

I’m looking at it right now. This picture brings me love.

I see a rustic beige trailer parked on an extern atrium. There are tables and chairs right beside it and, at the middle of the pic, a door craved on a wall made of stone. The sunlight comes from east, early morning lighting up the sign just above the door: “Le palais d’Odin”. Oui, ces’t la France! But not Paris, Lyon or the Polynesia. I bid you welcome to Domfront.

I was driving from Mont Saint-Michel to Paris with my pal. If you want to know Normandy, rent a car, tune “Nostalgi FM” and drive. The landscapes, meadows and open roads will guide you freely. I didn’t realize the fuel alarm go red, too absorbed I was by the view and the writing project in my mind: to ask random people, along the trip, what was love for them – in just one word. The answers would be amazing, hipster blog material, then a book, and… wait. The fuel alarm, again. Real life adventure just started:

We stopped by a roadside restaurant asking for help, while the final lights of an amazing day were saying goodbye. “English? Help? Gas?” A young French guy volunteered to enter our car and point the way, lefting his unfinished food at the table. We thank you, Pierrick! Fuel complete, he refused any extra money and helped us to get to downtown. A small medieval city called Domfront, between a sacred mount and the city of lights. We hike through the narrow streets and stone monuments, until we got to an open atrium. Le Palais d’Odin, a charming stone-craved bar, welcomed us in the night. Our source of food and drinking. Our warm place. Our own French Valhalla.

Small place, wooden seats, Nordic posters in the walls. Cozy bohemian atmosphere. Christián, the owner, is the coolest Viking ever. Poured some drinks for us, good food for cheap price and talked from Brazilian politics to music taste. After all that, with no hostels nearby, our Viking let me and my pal sleep at his trailer, parked outside. No ceremonies or Nordic rituals. Only love. “Le Palais d’Odin” really is a place blessed by gods. The traveling ones, who look after bagpackers and guide them to hidden gems like that.

Next morning, within fresh baked Croissants and hot steamy coffee, I picked my notebook and finally asked Christián the question throbbing my mind, the love-question, wishing the project opening-answer. He gave me a big shining smile, opened his arms and shouted – Love is HOPE!

Oh, boy. Everything made sense.