This week in Paris

It's almost a week since my last post.  What's been happening?  Well, we celebrated Simon's birthday last Saturday with champagne and dinner and on the Sunday they left their bags at the Gare du Nord and we explored Parc des Buttes-Chaumont.  It's a beautiful park and well used.

We watched a child hurtling down a steep grass slope lying down on a skate board. He went straight under a park bench at the bottom nearly decapitating himself.  Gallic shrugs from the parents at the top of the slope!  We had a walk round in the almost spring-like sunshine and then had lunch before they departed to do some last minute food shopping and get the train home.

On Monday I attended my first book club meeting.  We had read 'The Miniaturist' and it was not well liked.  We admired the descriptive writing and the evocation of 16C Amsterdam but picked holes in the characterisation and the surreal nature of the miniaturist herself.   The group were mixed English and French and were very welcoming to a new member but I made the mistake of querying whether they thought it was a good idea to choose a book for the next meeting that several of them had already read.   It was seen as a criticism and I was sharply asked what was wrong with re-reading a book! I should have kept quiet.   I'm clearly shallow as I almost never re-read a book...apart from 'David Copperfield' which I must have read 4 times now.  

On Wednesday I went to the 'craft' day at the 'club' where we had a sort of post-mortem on the Bazaar the previous week.  The bric-a-brac stall I was on had done well.  We immediately set to work making things to sell at next year's bazaar!  It's not a really serious undertaking, just a very sociable time. 

On Thursday I had my second Meetup meeting in the Sugar Plum Cake Shop.  Two people showed up, one of them very late and just as I was about to leave.  The woman who was there from the start turned out to be an art dealer from Los Angeles who decided to retire and travel.  She had just spent 5 years in Bangkok and was now in Paris.  She's been here for about 2 years and knows a lot of people from her art buying and selling days.  Apparently she had a exhibition for Hockney a few years ago and bought a lot of his work for herself.  She has it in store.  Well, I couldn't match that!  She told some interesting stories about $100,000,000 sculptures and chasing provenance.   The lady who turned up late, I had met before.  A rather strange woman who talks compulsively, even as you are getting up and going and are half way out the door.  

Later on Thursday I had my last French class at the school round the corner.  The teacher has been getting stranger and stranger and less and less organised and the last lesson was a shambles.  Khem and I exchanged glances now and again as he took off on one of his perorations!  Then he asked us a question about customs in our countries - how do people greet each other.  We've covered this at least once before but we dutifully repeated our answers, then he took off again on another of his pet political topics and we listened politely.  At the end of the class he got up and walked out and picked up his little dog, a fixture in the office, and said not one word of farewell.  I went up to him and shook his hand and said thank you and he made no reply, but his wife seated at the computer asked us to write a testimonial on their web site.  I'll think about it!   Khem and I will continue to meet (we have a lunch date for Monday) so that's a good thing to come of the lessons - and of course I've learnt a lot of French really!  There's a conversation group at the 'club' which I hope to join next week.

Paris gearing up for Christmas.  The Champs Elysees is lined with little white booths selling everything under the sun.

And now the weekend approaches.  Dinner out tonight at a new restaurant and then a concert on Saturday and a visit from an electrician to take a look at the cooker which keeps tripping the fuse and putting out the lights - not to mention leaving the evening meal half-cooked! 

An afternoon in Paris

The view

Simon, Tania and I met up at the Institut du Monde Arabe from the roof of which is an excellent view of Paris. After a wander round the bookshop, where I bought a book in French by an Arab author,  we went across the space outside to the Berber 'tent' where they were serving lunch, accompanied by much loud Moroccan music.  I had a chicken cous cous with onions, raisins and chick peas which was excellent.

Simon and Tania tuck in

Cous cous

Musicians

The 'tent'

Then we wandered across to the Ile St. Louis and admired the shops and then crossed the rue du Rivoli to the Rue Vieille du Temple and ambled through the Marais, stopping at shops that took our fancy.

In the Marais

Serious damage done here :-)

After a restorative beverage in a cafe and a much needed sit down, the three of us went to the newly re-opened Picasso Museum which was very crowded and somewhat disappointing.  Masses of pictures, sculptures and drawing and no wall text for context.  There was a little book which you could read, but I like to walk into a gallery and read something about the curator's intentions.  The work was roughly in chronological order and after a while it was hard to take in.  Simon and Tania went off for a dinner à deux and I carried my large black bag back home and made supper for Peter who returned from Brussels. 

A very British affair

This week the BCWA held their annual bazaar to raise funds for the club.  I should imagine the rents are high on Rue du Faubourg St. Honoré.  On Wednesday, the usual day for 'Crafts' (sitting around and making things for the annual bazaar) I spent the day helping to sort out the craft items for sale.  One woman had made a suitcase full of garish beanies but there were other slightly more attractive items - a collection of beautifully knitted stuffed animals and dolls, a lot of patch work table mats and
runners, hand made cards and some good scarves, etc. etc.  There was a lot of fairly good natured discussion about what went where and how to display things.  In addition to the crafts there was a cake table, a tombola, mulled wine, home made jams, guess the weight of the cake and bric-a-brac - you get the picture.   Just like home!   I seem to have been adopted as arbitor and spent the day cheerfully agreeing with whoever I was talking to!

The bric-a-brac stall

The crowd!

On Thursday, the great day of the bazaar, I was on the bric-a-brac stall with Jenny and Jacqueline.  As you can see, I required fortification for the task.  I think, judging from my rather wild grin, this is my second glass! It was all good fun.  We made an amazing amount of money considering what a table full of old rubbish we had!  I bought some stuffed toys and won a box of biscuits on the tombola.  Why not one of the many bottles??  At the end of the day the items left on the bric-a-brac stall all went off to a charity shop so someone more deserving of a bargain will benefit in the end.

In the evening Simon and Tania arrived in Paris and it was lovely to see them.  We went out to a restaurant and had a good meal and a bottle of Beaujolais nouveau. 

College des Bernadins

This morning I went on a guided visit of the Collège des Bernadins organised by the British and Commonwealth Women's Association.  We met out side the Collège and there were introductions.  They are a very considerate bunch of people.   The guide spoke in English.  The building was at one time a vast Cistercian monastery started in the 13th Century.  The stone work inside is plain and simple and on a large scale.  Apparently after the French revolution, when the monks were kicked out and the building became the property of the state it was transformed into a prison, then a warehouse before being converted into a fire station.   It wasn't until 1887 that the building was listed and the firemen were there until 1995, doing considerable damage.  Now a great deal of money has been raised and spent and it's a theological and cultural centre. 

The group

Looking down the nave

Rose window

After the tour we sat together and had coffee and then I wandered around the area trying to find the bus back and happened on a rather nice shop where I spent a good half hour - without spending anything!

A slightly damp Sunday

Parc Montsouris

Sunday was grey.  It drizzled on and off.  Nothing daunted we set off for the Parc Montsouris for a walk and criss-crossed the park by the various paths, noting the autumn colours and dodging the runners!

We came back to a restaurant in the area round the flat and had a large bowl of salad for lunch - one each, naturally.   And then wandered round the 'car boot sale' that was taking place along the surrounding streets.  Not even car boot really, just a very poor assortment of jumble and household paraphernalia.

Autumn's coming

La Butte Aux Cailles

After not buying anything we returned to the flat and lazed around reading until it was time to go to the cinema.

I think this is my first ever visit to a French cinema.  There were two queues and we got in the 'credit card' queue but the machine didn't like the card and rather than excite the anger of the crowd behind us* we bolted across to the other queue where there were real people at tills.  There was virtually no lobby to the cinema so the queues were in the rain outside.  Inside was dark and 'manned' by about 5 bouncers one of who had a microphone and periodically relayed messages about the number of seats remaining for a particular film (there were 7 screens).  The effect was to engender a mild panic. Once we had our tickets we were ushered out into the rain again and found other people for the same film sheltering in a doorway.  We were eventually called back in and walked down stairs and along black-walled corridors and down more stairs and into a small cinema.  We were lucky to have squeezed near the front of the queue** because they had clearly sold exactly the number of tickets for the number of seats but the seats were not numbered.  We picked two on the gangway in the back row. There was a lot of walking around by latecomers and people were separated.  Two people came in after the lights had gone down.  Goodness knows how they found seats.   It was really very comfortable and once we had checked the fire exits (we felt we were rather deep underground) we relaxed.  I can't say it was a good film (Magic in the Moonlight - Woody Allen), in fact I would only give it 4/10.  Peter was more generous (6/10) but it was an enjoyable bit of froth.   Afterwards we walked back and had dos de cabillaud for supper - a very thick cut of cod which we don't see in the UK.  Delicious.

* I have witnessed about three near fights between people who feel they have been slighted or insulted or bumped or jostled on the bus, metro or in the street.  It's really surprising how the slightest inconvenience generates a slanging match with each one provoking the other further.    My French teacher seems to think it's OK to give someone a 'paff' ( explanation accompanied by demonstration of a right hook) if you are disrespected in any way.  In some situations, it seems, there's a lamentable shortage of sang froid or turn the other cheek or 'sorry'.
** Unlike the English the French do not queue.  At the bus stop it's every man/woman for him/herself, unlike dear old Norwich where you get on the bus in pretty much the order you arrived at the bus stop!  Oh we are soft!

Still in demand???

How about this for a message received on my Meetup page! 
I'm still smiling!   Naturally I have dashed his hopes!

Hello Ruth, Thanks for your note,I joined to group to enable me meet people in Paris,As i am presently working on a project valuation in France and have been here for close to two weeks, I am sorry to bug you, But i came across your photo here and your picture and smile captivated my soul, I will like to know if you are still single or married. I hope you do not get offended with my question.Kindly make my day by responding.I await your mail. Cheers God bless

Clever idea

I had cause to find a doctor during the week, so I put our address into Google maps and searched nearby for a 'médecin généraliste' (I think that's how you spell it).  The surrounding neighbourhood is awash with doctors so I patiently went through each in turn looking for someone that took my fancy, though I had no idea how to tell one from another except that some were actually psychiatrists (not needed, yet) or therapists of one sort or another (ditto).  I found a doctor nearby and phoned only to be completely stumped by an answerphone message that was relayed at machine gun speed.  I hung up none the wiser.  Eventually I located a doctor with the delightful name of Charlotte de Rochbrune (nice picture too) and what's more, I could book an appointment online!   What a brilliant idea!  So much easier on the blood pressure than trying to get through to a surgery.  She turned out to be charming and business like and, I hope, good at her job.   Apparently I may have gallstones - a punishment for all that butter and cream!  

Another clever idea that came to fruition this week was the showdown with Jean at the language school.  Khem and I delivered our prepared speech and low and behold, we talked the whole 2 hours and now have a list of topics we will be discussing.   

Showdown time!

Peter is on his travels this week (Rome, London, Plymouth) and I'm having a relatively quiet time.  I made a large batch of vegetable soup and am slowly working my way through it.   I went to the bank on Monday to collect Peter's debit card, this time with his name on it rather than mine.  Dignity is now restored to him.  My French class on Monday was dreadful.  Jean talked the whole time! 

On Tuesday I got together with my classmate Khem in a bar nearby. It was 11th November, a holiday here, so no class and we spent the time talking in French and English and making a plan to confront Jean about the lack of opportunity to speak French. I can't remember if I've said that we answer questions but rarely have the chance to speak at length or in dialogue.  Jean does 90% of the talking. Culturally, it's difficult for Khem to criticise her teachers, but I have no such problem!   We cooked up our arguments and rehearsed our phrases. 

Today I spent the day at the British and Commonwealth Women's Association, borrowed another book, helped put covers and raffia bows on pots of jam and started a tea cosy for the bazaar, and had lunch.  Great company again.  They all have amusing stories to tell.  One of the French women there gave me a bit of coaching on my approach to Jean.

Turned up to the class this afternoon.  As soon as Jean came in, I pounced!  Nicely of course, but with determination!  Khem backed me up.  He kept shrugging his shoulders as if to say, "Isn't that what I've been doing?" "I was asking you yesterday about the British transport system", as though he'd been giving these opportunities and we hadn't taken them.  Anyway, he suddenly produced a list of topics that we might want to talk about, already typed, that he passed off as his wife's idea so I wonder if she had got wind of his long-windedness!  He let us talk for a long while although he didn't look completely happy...rather bored and tired really...but we ignored him. 

I am preparing a talk for tomorrow about British traditions!  What he really wants to know is what's not good about Britain!  Jean loves his negative stereotypes.  I shall be boringly positive!

A good walk

Place de la Bastille near the start

On Sunday we found a walk in the box of walks that Simon and Tania gave us and checked it out on the map and online.  It goes for about 5km from Opera Bastille to the Bois de Vincennes.  Part of the walk is on top of an old viaduct and other parts are along an old railway line.  It's very attractive, even in November, and well used by strollers and runners.  We started off by looking at the shops that have been opened in the arches of the viaduct and found a Portuguese café  selling very nice coffee and pastels, those little custard tarts.  I had to have one!  Then we climbed up the steps to the top of the viaduct and walked in the direction of the Bois de Vincennes.  We didn't make it quite all the way there as our stomachs told us it was lunch time, so we dropped back down to the road and found a brasserie right by the metro on our line home.   A very satisfying urban walk.

The viaduct

Pastels

Tai chi in the park

The promenade plantée

Steps up

One of the several tunnels

Promenade Plantée

Brick church

A disappointing experience

Snails in cabbage

Terrine de sanglier

Riz de veau

I forgot to say that our outing to Au Petit Marguery was not a total success.  The room was Bel Epoque and very attractive.  Nice white table cloths and napkins and, initially, very attentive service.  Maybe even a little on the rushed side.   We ordered our food and then Peter got out the wine list and our waitress was back to take his order before he had turned the page.  We ordered water and then ordered it again!  Peter had cabbage stuffed with snails in some sort unidentifiable filling with a pale sauce round it.  It was interesting to look at but hard to cut into and fairly tasteless.  I had terrine de sanglier, wild boar...or should that be 'bore'.  Not at all interesting.   Then I had sweetbreads - a large helping on a bed of spinach.  It had a rich flavour but was not very subtle.  Peter had veal kidneys which he enjoyed although the sautée potatoes got soggy in the sauce.  I had ice cream afterwards.  There was 'plombiere' (which means plumber) listed as a flavour but no English translation so I asked.  Three waiters shrugged their shoulders in ignorance.  Eventually someone came along who knew.  Rum and raisin!  We are still trying to work out the connection.  The waitress seemed affronted that Peter topped up our glasses, but she had not noticed each time they emptied.   When we came to leave they brought out the wrong coats three times!  In the end I had to go to the cupboard at the back of the restaurant to identify them.  Whereupon the waitress yanked them off the hanger, threw them over her shoulder and marched off to the front of the restaurant leaving me to bring up the rear.  We booked via a website and the next day I left a luke warm review!

Revenge is a dish best served cold!  A saying attributed to the Mafiosi in Sicily!

A mistake

What a good idea it seemed, after the usual Saturday morning food shopping and lunch, to go into the centre of Paris to do some shopping!  Madness.  How could we have overlooked the fact that the Rue du Rivoli is like Oxford Street?  We started with a visit to WHSmith and were surprised to find it well stocked with a wide range of books, much better than you'd find on a high street in the UK.  I bought a French verb book to get a grip of conjugation and a verb practice book, with exercises.  We were amused to find a food section in WHSmith selling all the things that ex-pats apparently can't do without....like Heinz sandwich spread!   Then we struggled along to BHV like salmon at spawning time and bought a birthday present for Simon and checked out the shopping trolleys - as you do! 

Next time I'll leave shopping to a weekday...

Here comes the weekend...

The French class has been a bit up and down this week.  Jean has not recovered from his mother's death last weekend, which is not surprising as he is clearly a very emotional man, but it does beg the question why he is continuing to hold classes if he has to keep going out to recover himself.  That probably sounds very hard hearted, but his mother was in her 90s and in hospital so it was to be expected.  Yes, it is hard hearted!   The result of being completely 'bouleversé' is that he is more distrait than usual.

My Thai companion in the class and I have decided to meet once a week for an hour before the class to talk to each other in French and English.  I'm looking forward to it.  She seems very pleased.  Her husband works at the Finance Ministry (or some such) and isn't home much before 10.00pm so I reckon she is rather lonely.

This morning, Friday, our landlady came to collect the rent and to do something mysterious to the hot water cylinder in the loft (accessed by a ladder leaning on the wall) which she apparently has to do once a month. She also rooted around in the loft space and collected some things she would like to have with her.  It's interesting how information about people comes in dribs and drabs.  She is an actress, author and singer and she is writing a one man show which will be performed in Geneva in January about her relationship with her father who was Roland Dubillard a famous (in France) poet, singer, actor, writer etc.   We discussed the problem we are having with the cooker, which twice has given up mid-meal and tripped the electricity.  We were plunged in darkness twice yesterday and realised we have no matches, no candles and a torch without a battery.  Last night Peter had half-cooked potatoes, a carrot and some cheese.  I was eating a meagre salad (amazingly I am dieting again) topped with two not hard boiled eggs!

After my bowl of soup at lunch time I walked up to the Place D'Italy and on the way I saw Will Self the writer and psychogeographer talking to a group of students.  He is apparently teaching on a university course here.   As I went past he was talking about anaglypta wall paper.  The things you see and hear!  I was on my way to the club (!) and caught the 83 bus.  It was packed for several stops and a lot of pushing and shoving goes on, most of it polite.  Yesterday I witnessed an altercation between a young woman with a small child and another in a pushchair and an old lady with two crutches.  Apparently the old lady didn't think the woman had been quick enough to shift her child from the priority seat.  A lot of hissing and spitting went on and, as usual, both parties tried to enlist the allegiance of those around them.  I took a profound interest in the roof of the bus.

At the club the welcome was a warm as usual.  I was there to play Scrabble.  Yes, Scrabble!  Never thought I'd be doing that in the day time, but they were lovely women and very amusing and I had a great time. 

Tonight is restaurant night.  Au Petit Marguery.  The menu is translated into English which is a bit offputting but it looks good.  

Lunch at the club

Seen from the Quai D'Orsay

This morning I walked to the Place D'Italie and hopped on an 83 bus which goes north and east, around the Jardin du Luxembourg, along the Bouleward St. Germain, down the Quai d'Orsay and across the Seine to the Champs-Elysées and up to the Arc de Triomphe.  A lot of sight seeing for the price of the bus ticket.  Paris was sparkling in the sun.

Lunch at the club!

My destination was the British and Commonwealth Women's Association (BCWA) on Rue du Foubourg St. Honoré.  I went along to a) change my library book, b) have lunch if there was any going and b) check out the 'craft day' which was advertised in the newsletter.  This takes place weekly from 10.30 to 3.30.  I took my knitting with me in case everyone was busy with their crafts and I was quickly advised to hide it in a corner out of the sight of Penny, the organiser.  Women turn up to make 'things' that are then sold at various functions in order to raise money for the club.  I'm sure the rents are very high in the area.  The crafts being worked on round the table were a needlepoint hanging, greetings cards, various crocheted hats and scarves, decorated tiles and Christmas wreaths.  Most of them alarmingly hideous, but everyone was having great fun and they were so welcoming and friendly.  Again I heard stories of friendships with French women rebuffed, but it wasn't a French-bashing session.  Just polite mystification about the difficulty of making French friends.   We went in to lunch together...chicken tagine and couscous, salad, cheese, dessert and coffee and wine.  When I left Penny reminded me that the session starts at 10.30 am (I had turned up at 11.40) and I could see the others smirking behind her back.  I don't think anyone takes themselves too seriously.    Here we are at lunch.  That's Her Maj on the wall!!  I laughed just about the whole time I was there and came home feeling really buoyed up

The other good news is that my new classmate at the language school is really good at speaking French. She's a Thai woman married to a Frenchman who did a year in Norwich some time ago while she was completing her Masters. Que le monde est petit! She wants to be more fluent and improve her accent.  I think it will be very good for me to have her as a co-student.

Giverny and back

It took Peter some time to work out the train timetable.   When you put in your departure and destination points on the SNCF website and it gives you the through trains.  You have to hunt high and low for information about any other routes that involve a change.  In the end we thought we had cracked it and we went off early to the Gare St. Lazare and found the train we had hoped to find.   So a good start. 

When we arrived at Vernon, the nearest station to Giverny, we were hoping to find the regular shuttle bus that takes visitors to Monet's house.   It had stopped running the previous day!  A taxi driver who was already booked took pity on us when none of the taxi firms were answering their phones, and called a colleague who was there in half a minute and took us and two other stranded tourists to Giverny.   The other two were an American woman who had got separated from her friends and a young and very nervous South American girl who didn't have quite enough change for the taxi, so we helped her out.

Museum entrance at Giverny

Monet's house and garden were closed, but as that wasn't the point of the journey, we were not disappointed.  After a quick cup of coffee we went to see the exhibition of Belgian impressionists.  It was the first Sunday in the month and therefore free entry, but a man was barring the way in.  "May we go in?" "Not yet".  Silence on his part and mystification on ours.  Then a curt nod of the head towards the lady seated behind the ticket desk.  We took the hint and presented ourselves.  "Nationality?" We owned up to being British.  Two tickets were given to us.  We took two steps to the right and the man tore the tickets in half.  Bureaucracy satisfied, and rudeness exercised, we were allowed in. It was a great exhibition. Artists we didn't know and pictures we had never seen before.  Some beauties too!  We went round twice.

The Old Gardener - walking out of the canvas

Breakfast

Probably my favourite. By Emile Claus

Then, shunning the burger menu at the café at the museum, we walked down the road to a little hotel and had lunch there, omelettes paysanne and salad...and a half carafe of wine.  Rather than call a taxi we decided to take advantage of the time we had and the wonderful weather and  walk back to Vernon.  We understood it to be 4km away.  It turned out to be 5km, but the route for the most part followed an old railway line and the road through Giverny which ran along side has been landscaped with shrubs and grasses which were looking lovely.  It was an excellent walk.

Road through Giverny

An unexpected emu

The old railway line

The old railway line

View across the fields

Seen from the bridge at Vernon

Hairdresser's window display, Vernon

Fishmonger's sign

The train back came from Rouen and was packed.  I found a seat, but Peter only obtained one by insisting, aided by a lady sitting opposite,  that a young woman remove her bag from the seat it was occupying.   Despite this example of selfishness, it is interesting to see that in the Metro, people are very considerate of the 'old' and we nearly always get offered seats.  When the trains get crowded, those on the tip up seats near the doors, automatically stand up to create more room. 

We Skyped with Rupert and he sent us photographs of some rotten beam in the cellar.  Oh dear!

La Maison Courtine and Saturday at the Luxembourg gardens...

Well, we had a lukewarm response to La Maison Courtine.  Our table was fine.  There was a white cloth and proper linen serviettes and we were seated promptly.   The food was good.  Peter had escargot - the first time this trip - and they were delicious.  I had tiger prawns in batter with a lobster purée.  Three prawns and a tablespoon of purée and a tiny bit of nondescript salad and a bit of diced mango.  It was 'nice' but not outstanding.  Then we both had calves liver which was excellent and came with a light parsnip and potato purée.  Peter had cheese to follow - again, not very special.  I had a deconstructed plum tart with a blob of cassis ice cream which was very sharp and didn't really complement the plums.  Vanilla ice cream would have been better....à mon avis!  The dining room was rather dreary and the service was professional but unsmiling, almost to the point of unfriendly.  I seem to have turned into a restaurant critic, and not a very good one at that.

And so to today, Saturday 1st November and very warm.  The weather is amazing.  We got up early and negotiated our way to the Gare St. Lazare which is immense and labyrinthine.  With help we located the ticket machines and then had to have more help to get the tickets.  Even the ticket machines are bureaucratic!  It asked for an incredible amount of information and then seemed to ignore it.  Then Peter instructed me to RUN for the train, which I did,  running straight into a woman who moved the wrong way.  We missed the train.  Fortunately it turned out that our tickets are good for a week, so we are going to try again tomorrow.   Our destination is Monet's house at Giverny where there is an exhibition of Belgian impressionists.   We were last there with Bob and Mary!

Printemps

So, we wandered out of the Gare St. Lazare and went in search of a brasserie for lunch, admiring the Printemps store on the way.

Exhibition poster

After omelettes and chips etc. we found a bus that would take us to the Luxembourg gardens where we walked the wrong way but eventually came to the entrance of the Musée de Luxembourg where there was an exhibition of....wait for it...impressionists!  This time, the collection, subsequently dispersed and brought together again for the exhibition, of one Paul Durand-Ruel.   It was small but had some lovely pictures.  Then back out into the sunshine of the Jardins de Luxembourg and into a couple of chairs facing the sunshine where Peter did the crossword and I had 40 winks!   The gardens were very busy.  There were chess players, a children's playground with people queueing to get in, it looked anything but fun inside, and boules players.  We were amused to see the terrain for boules is equipped with coat racks. And then people everywhere reading books.

The crowded children's area

What a moustache!

Boules

View through the trees

We struggled a bit with the bus home, wandering at first in the wrong direction but eventually made it.