After all of that "perfect summer" description in the last blog posting, we very nearly had to go with "Plan B" before we'd even left home.
We took our rapid PCR COVID tests (required for our entry into France at that time; as of June 17 a COVID test is no longer an entry requirement for vaccinated Americans) at an urgent care center in St. Petersburg during the late afternoon of June 15, the day before our scheduled departure to Paris. We'd been pretty careful with our exposure to other people throughout the entire "Age of COVID", and although we'd relaxed our mask-wearing somewhat post-vaccination, we still avoided crowds and tried to minimize interactions (especially indoors) with people of uncertain vaccination status. It was, therefore, quite a shocker when Lon's PCR test result came up as positive. Whaaaaaattttt????? sums up our reaction. Rather than accepting the result at face value and reporting it to the State of Florida--which would have prevented us from flying for at least 14 days--the testing facility sent Lon's sample to a lab for confirmatory testing with the "regular" PCR process. We were hoping to get the results that evening, but no such luck. Needless to say, we had a long and mostly sleepless night as we tried to stay optimistic that the initial result was a false positive and that we'd still be able to fly on the 16th. We finally got the results at 9 a.m. on Wednesday morning, about an hour before we were supposed to leave for the airport. Negative! We were exhilarated, relieved, rushed around like mad to get out the door by 10 a.m., and were grateful to be able to put the possibility of having to go with a Plan B on the back burner.
The travel itself was a piece of cake. Check-in was easy, our flights were on time, and we had an early arrival into Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris. The airport was eerily empty compared to past trips and we breezed through French customs. I had to show only my passport to the customs officer; he didn't ask to see my proof of vaccination or COVID test results. Lon was asked to show his passport and vaccination card. Less than an hour after landing we were already on the first of several trains that would eventually get us to our marina in Auxonne, France.
It was a sad, dirty, and neglected C.A.R.I.B. III that greeted us when we got to Port Royal in Auxonne. Twenty months of no attention will do that to a boat. The exterior dirt was the worst; the spiders and other bugs had not left as much of an impact on the inside as I'd feared. Cleaning was a high priority for our first days here.
A small sample of the dirt on the deck |
Et voila! Clean again |