My last meal in France

It was the morning of the day I would fly home. My flight was at 7pm. I planned for the taxi to pick me up at 3pm, to make sure I had ample time and then some, and wouldn't stress about it. I had two possible agendas. One was to go back to the Marais and buy some gloves and a scarf for Carolina, to thank her for wiring the money. The stores on Rue du Temple all seemed to be staffed, and likely owned, by people of Asian heritage. The merchandise was cheap, and certainly not French made. But they had some awfully nice designs, and I had euros to relinquish. Plan two was to go to Bouillon Julien, a restaurant a metro ride away. Bouillions are a kind of old fashioned restaurant that originally served inexpensive meals to workers. They are still quite inexpensive compared to typical French restaurants. I had previously been to Bouillion Chartier, which I had stumbled upon on a trip some years ago. It felt like going through a time warp. The tables were communal. The hall was large and high ceilinged. I took Loring there on a subsequent trip. He doesn't remember it, though. I decided to go to the restaurant first, and if I had time, or if they couldn't seat me, go to the shops in the Marais. It was Sunday, and I wasn't even sure the shops would be open. I had read about Bouillion Julien on this trip, and seen photos. In the entryway was an exqusite mosaic with two peacocks and the name of the restaurant. That alone was a motivation for me to visit. The interior looked beautiful, deco in style with pale greens predominating. I couldn't make a reservation but their site said they accepted walk ins. Someone had written that they went without restervation and had to wait, but it was worth it. They opened at 11:45, which is when I wanted to be there. I left home early, having packed first, and arrived at 11am. There was a roped area to line up in. I was the first one there. By 11:45 a few people had arrived behind me. And at promptly 11:45, they opened the door. There was only one line for those with and without reservations, so I wasn't sure how they would seat people. They asked me if I had a reservation, and if I was by myself. I was the first one seated, at a table right in front, at the window, so I could see the line get longer and longer as they seated people a party at a time. There was no reason for me to have arrived before 1145. No one came to serve me until the place was pretty much seated. That was okay. The menu was indeed inexpensive. There were entrees (which in French actually means appetizers) and plats, which are the main dishes, and desserts. And wines of course. On the list of plats the first item was Bouillion Julien. So I of course had to order that. Since it was listed as a main dish I assumed it would be a hearty broth. But when it came, it was quite thin, with small pieces of beef, and those tiny noodles that are just small pearls of pasta. What's more, it was lukewarm. I thought about sending it back, but it tasted good, and I didn't bother. The good thing is that it left me room for dessert. Which was delicious. It was an apricot almond tarte. While I was waiting for my meal, I walked around the restaurant and took pictures of the beautiful interior. The aisles were quite narrow, and I had trouble squeezing thru where a table had a bottle of wine beside it. I wonder if the food in general is mediocre, or I just ordered the wrong thing. And I wonder why the boullion was listed on the main dish part of the menu. In looking at online reviews I see both positive ones and ones that say the food is terrible. I would definitely go back on a subsequent visit, just to see if some of the other dishes were better. And to see the mosaic entry and the stunning interior again. The apricot tarte made me think of the deserts I had. My first was a raspberry tarte, my favorite. I had to resist ordering that every time I passed a patisserie. I think I had three over the course of my stay. Once I was buying a baguette in a boulangerie, which also had some pastries. I bought a kind of chocolate twist pastry and took it home. Then there was the chocolate meringue. It was a large ball covered with chocolate. I assumed the inside was all meringue. I generally don't like meringue, or macarons. But it looked so good. I was curious and had to try it. I actually liked it! The meringue was interspersed was a light foamy mousse. It was rich but light at the same time. Then there was the day with the gigantic chocolate banana almond whipped cream crepe, previously described in another entry. I almost couldn't, and probably shouldn't have eaten the whole thing. But I did. And to be fair, to myself, that was my main meal for the day! I must had some other pastries, but they escape my memory at the moment. So to sum up, I had started out with a goal to visit at least six museums in two weeks. That's a much slower pace than on previous visits, but in truth I am slowing down. And I lost one day due to the theft of my porte-feuille. That means wallet, I just had to get that word into print. I visited the Arts Naif museum, the Pompidou, the Petit Palais, the Arts Decoratif( only on my second attempt, the first was when I discoverd my wallet was gone.) And the Victor Hugo, which is a house museum located on the corner of the Place des Vosges. I had been there before, a long time ago. I always like house museums. And I was tired from walking around the city. And it is relatively small. And it is free. It certainly isn't as well known as many of the Paris attractions, but is definitely worth a visit. It's an apartment, small for a museum, but large for a house. The furnishings are not the originals, but are of the period. Except for the bed in the master bedroom. Which is the bed in which he died! So that makes five museums, unless I am forgetting one, which is certainly possible. Close to my goal. But I do wish I'd had the energy for a few more. I wouldn't have minded another visit to the Orsay, another favorite, or the Palais de Tokyo museum of modern art, which was closed between exhibits. And several others. The Louvre isn't high on my list anymore. I'm not sure it's even on my list. If the lines weren't so long, and reservations weren't necessary, I might be inclined. Not to see the Mona Lisa. There's another Leonardo portrait in the corrider that I much prefer. I think many people are underwhelmed by her anyway. It seems that so many sites have enormous crowds now, and not only in Paris. I wonder if I'll feel like visiting again next year, or if this might have been my last tango. (what was that movie about, anyway?) Valerie and Laurel have already scheduled another mural workshop for next year, as the school has requested another mural. Several people have already signed up, and they only have room for a dozen or so. Addendum: I just realized that I ought to consider the Cirque d"Hiver as a museum. It's historic, dating from the Napoleonic era,and was the place where the trapeze was created, (by a man named Jules Leotard!) They do a wonderful backstage tour one Saturday a month. So I guess I did meet my museum goal after all. Goals are nice to have, but I also think it's okay if you don't always meet them.

Reflections and reminiscences from back at home.

I will now attempt to fill in some of the gaps, some of my experiences that I haven't yet documented. I hope I remember all or most of them, and hope I don't repeat myself too much. First, the performances. I attended two while I was there. First was a concert in a small venue in my neighborhood. I always try to look at ads in the metro and online for things happening during my stay. But this was just a small club close to my apartment that I happened to notice walking by. The poster on the door called the show for 7:30. I showed up about 7pm. I hoped that there would be tickets available at the door, as I had no credit cards to reserve online. There was another woman waiting, and we waited quite a while. A man soon joined us. I asked if they already had tickets, which they did. I don't think they opened the doors until after 8pm, which I don't think was normal because both the man and woman seemed frustrated. The venue, when they eventually let us in, was quite small. There was a stage, a few rows of seats, and an open floor. I sat on the top row, so I'd have a back to lean against. There were only four or five short rows, holding no more than twenty five or thirty people. The floor could have held quite a few more, but there were only about twenty people who stood there. So not more than fifty altogether. There was a first act was a singer with a guitar and a sweet voice. She sang completely in English. But spoke in French. The main act was also a French woman with a three piece band. She was very good. She also sang mostly in English. I messaged her afterwards to tell her I enjoyed her performance. Although the audience was small it was very enthusiastic, and didn't feel at all uncomfortable, at least to me. Next to me was a couple with the only child in the audience. He was about three, cherubic in looks with blond curls. He also must have had a severe case of ADHD or something similar. He was in constant movement and chanting or singing loudly nonestop. I felt both compassion for the parents and frustration with them for having brought him. They did leave early. I had read about a dance performance based on the music of Leonard Cohen, performed by the Montreal Ballet Company. The name of the performance was Dance Me. Online it looked as though the only tickets available were with limited visibility, or no visibility. It was at the Chatelet Theatre, another place I'd never been. Their site said the box office opened at 6:30, before each 8pm performance. I decided to show up at 6:30 and see what they had available, willing to settle for limited visibility. No visibility for a dance performance was puzzling. It worked out, and they actually had better seats. I ate at the cafe next door, which worked out perfectly. I was seated in the last orchestra row, fine especially since I hadn't been sure I'd get in at all. And it allowed me to stand when I couldn't see past the tall woman in front of me. Why do I always get the tallest person in the row? The first piece was wonderful. It featured the men in the company wearing black outfits and Cohen's iconic black hat. The performance was entirely his music, 18 songs I believe. The next few were also great. But after a while the choreography seemed to become repetitive. I was especially disappointed in their piece to the song Suzanne. To me, the lyrics describe a strong woman. And yet, the man of the dancing couple seemed to lead. I t bothered me. The performance ended with Hallaluyah. I was again disappointed because they did a solo singing rendition. The singer was a multi talented dancer in the company, and she had a beautiful voice. But I wanted the performance to end with a rousing dance. Nevertheless I was glad to have gone. The theatre is old and beautiful. And the performance had enough high moments to satisfy me. Interestingly, when I later googled reviews, I found a British reviewer from when they had performed there last year, who had some of the same criticisms that I did. It was rather gratifying to know that my feelings were echoed by a professional reviewer. I am glad I didn't read the review beforehand, or I might not have chosen to go. The audience gave the company long applause. I am still trying to figure out what a dance performance with no visibility would be like. I suppose you could go just to appreciate the music and the theatre itself. T

my last night

It's almost time to leave. This is my last night here and I am enjoying relaxing in my apartment.  I leave here tomorrow afternoon for an evening flight back to Boston. 

My day started earlier than usual.  I had planned  to take a tour of the Cirque d'Hiver which they offer once a month. It's a place I'd heard of but never known much about before. Carolina and Max's school mate from the Phoenix School has become a professional trapeze artist. I see her posts on fb and had seen that she was coming here to perform. The performances begin a week from now, so I won't be able to see her perform.  But we arranged to meet up at noon today after my tour and before her rehearsal began at 1230.

I couldnt buy a ticket online ( credit cards stolen, remember? ) so decided to just show up and hopefully buy a ticket there. That worked out relatively well with a couple of glitches.  One, in my rush to catch the bus I got on in wrong direction. Got off at the next stop but it was a long stretch and probably added ten minutes to my trip.  Had a little trouble finding the way- I have no internet on route- but am getting pretty good at asking for directions.  Arrived at 10:03. No open door but several people waiting.  Turns out there was some problem with the guide getting there, which I didn't understand, but he arrived at 10:30. He never took tickets, which I think all the others had, so I got a free tour. It was all in French and I understood a good part of it. He said afterward that he would have been happy to speak in English for part of it. But I hadn't wanted him to. It was really good practice for my French skills.

The place is beautiful and historic.  We saw dressing rooms, costumes, and, best of all the theater itself.  I don't know how often this happens, but we got to see about fifteen minutes of an aerialist rehearsing her act accompanied by a pianist on a piano that rose up from the stage. It was magical.  They were rehearsing the lighting as well. This is my third encounter with  a rising piano in the last few weeks. First there was one in part of the opening ceremony of the Olympics. Outdoors.  I watched that on tv at home. Next,  one of the weird moving apparatuses in the exhibit at the Musee des arts Naif involved  a rising piano. And then today at the Cirque. All of them in Paris.

There was so much more to the tour than I can relate. Suffice it to say that if you happen to be in Paris on a Saturday morning you might want to check out the tour. I'm sure they'll be happy to do some of it in English. 

I did understand that the art of trapeze was invented there, by a performer named Jules Leotard! And Izzy later told me that it felt like the pinnacle of her career to be performing there. I'm not sure she actually used that word,but I did! 

Let's see, what else can I relate before running out of time or energy? I feel like there's much more to tell,  despite my frustrating reduced level of energy.

Well, there's the Petit Palais , another place I'd not been to previously or known much about. It sits across from the Grand Palais which is open for special events and exhibits.  It isnt petit at all, but i guess smaller than the Grand.  It is an exquisitely beautiful building with both permanent and special exhibits.  It has a wide variety of art, some by artists I recognized, many beautiful pieces by people I did not. But to me most special of all was the interior garden and cafe. I I wouldn't have discovered it at all but for the sign at an elevator indicating it. It was an oasis with all kinds of plantings, pools with mosaic trim, and best of all,  canvas sling lounging chairs throughout with no obligation to purchase anything from the cafe. It was the first sunny warm day in my two weeks. Lots of people were basking in the sun. As did I  for about three quarters of an hour. I highly recommend a visit. 

Today after the tour I debated where to head next and decided to walk toward the Marais again and perhaps head over to the Jewish Museum after having discovered it closed for Rosh Hashanah  on my previous attempt. It was a longish but pleasant walk. Lots of people out strolling and sitting in cafes and more English and other languages spoken than I'd heard in two weeks.  But clearly lots of locals too. I stopped to browse in several stores looking for ways to spend my remaining euros. Got several ideas but decided to wait. Got to the museum and after walking into the courtyard decided I was too tired for that too and thought I might want to save my remaining euros for an extravagant (for me) last restarant meal.

So my plans for my last half day tomorrow are still up in the air, before I go up in the air myself. In the morning I'll eat the remainder of today's baguette,  still surprisingly good in the morning. If I have the time and energy I might head back to the Marais once more for some last minute purchases or even the museum. Or I may try to get into the Bouillon Julien. They have no reservations left but apparently do take walk ins. I want to go there as much for the stunning decor and mosaics as for the food.  I haven't figured out just what the difference is between a bouillon,  a bistro and a brasserie is, but am going to look it up and perhaps let you know in my next post.

Or, I might just head downstairs to the Mome cafe/restaurant right downstairs a little earlier than my 3pm taxi and have a last meal and coffee there. All of the possibilities sound good. I'll just have to wake and pack and then see.

Some days work out perfectly

The days that work out perfectly are not usually the ones that work out as

planned. The first time I tried to find the Museum of Naif Art I never did. I hadn't known about the museum at all. Only came across it because it was in walking distance from my apartment. It seems to not be well known at all. Perhaps by the locals. I'll have to ask Hilliare, my host, if he is familiar with it. I was determined to find the museum and so set out again a couple of day later. I was worried that it was going to be uphill since it's right at the edge of Montmartre.  But it wasn't. And this time I had no trouble finding it at all coming from a different angle. Go figure. This little museum turned out to be one of the highlights of my entire stay here , made even better by my feeling of discovery. There were two exhibits and no permanent collection.it felt like more of a gallery, but not one that felt elite or offputting. I described the exhibit here in one of my other posts. It was wonderful. Before entering the museum, I noticed that there were several fabric stores around the neighborhood. In fact, it was more than several. The whole area seemed occupied by fabric stores, some large, some tiny. They were more than just fabric stores, they had lots of notions like buttons, zippers in many colors, all kinds of ribbons, on rolling displays, from narrow to wide, many unusual and beautiful ones. I don't sew, but thoroughly enjoyed browsing the stores. They sold fabric in bolts, from a quarter meter up, and also littlethink packets of remnants of all kinds, costing from 1 to 3 or 4 euros. I bought a few short pieces of ribbons, and left them on display on my living room table for the rest of my stay. My intention is to incorporate them into mixed media pieces with fabric and mosaics. I am inspired by Valerie, our French mosaic teacher in Provence, who has been incorporating brocade and other materials into some of her mosaic pieces. So that was my day, walking and a wonderful find of a museum, and fabric. I think I cooked dinner at home, as I did the majority of days.

Almost time to say goodbye

as usual I find it hard to keep up with describing my experiences and adventures. this is my next to last night here. I have hardly been eating out. have breakfast here every morning. it's usually been coffee and those traditional toasted crackers I still associate with my very first trip here. back then my host mother served them with orange marmalade and butter. this time it's been apricot as there was already a jar here, and then orange/grapefruit when that ran out. I dont usually have three meals, but either lunch or supper and maybe a snack somewhere along the way. Yesterday had a crepe as a lavish lunch in the Marais. that's the previously Jewish quarter that's now very trendy, with art galleries and clothing stores and many perfume shops. you do still see the occasional orthodox Jew but I'm afraid they have become a tourist attraction in themselves . Now this crepe was nothing like the one you can order at a stand in the street. Another long ago food memory: I had a favorite crepe stand on the Blvd St Michel where I would always order the same thing, a chocolate coconut crepe, folded and wrapped in paper. The guy would see me coming and say "chocolate et noix de coco?" The crepe I ordered yesterday in a sit down restaurant was chocolate, banana with almonds and whipped cream. I had just ordered chocolate and banana but then asked for some whipped crem(chantilly in French.) She pointed out that the day's special was all that plus almonds and so that's what I had. it was just one crepe which you could hardly see because of all the banana, chocolate and especially all the whipped cream. it was massive. Loring if you are reading this, it was almost but not quite as massive as the one in that town in Tunisia! Did I eat it all? of course I did. that might have had something to do with my queasy stomach last night. For supper at home last night I had half of a fresh warm baguette and some mint tea. I had headed to the Marais planning to visit the Jewish museum, to which I had never been. they had an interesting sounding exhibit about dybbks.As far as I know, in Jewish mythology they are evil spirits.

Next encounter with the authorities

Ok I told you about the first experience where my wallet was stolen but I was treated very kindly by the police. 

Here's the next and hopefully last disaster on the metro. Fyi I can't remember ever having an experience like either of these before, in all my visits to Paris. 

I had never taken the bus before here, except for when I lived here and sometimes took the bus to school instead of walking.  Always liked taking the train.  Until a few days ago, after the pickpocket incident.  I decided to give the bus a try. First attempt mostly positive, excerpt that someone gave me bad info and I took the bus in the wrong direction. I was almost at the end of the line before I realized it. No biggie. I went back in the right direction and the bus driver told me to just explain to the new driver and I wouldn't be charged.  Anyway it was a nice excursion through parts of the city I hadn't seen before. 

Next day, got on the bus again  when for some reason the machine rejected my ticket. I didn't  understand but was already on the bus so ignored it. Guess who came along? One of the inspectors.  I knew that there were heavy fines and tried to explain that I had had my wallet stolen and had very little money and no credit cards.  (I  didn't mention the 50 euros I had in my shoe) I also didn't have any identification. i guess I should have kept the police report with me. I was in no way going to carry my passport around after the theft.

The guy was not very sympathetic.  He didn't seem  to believe my story and eventually told me to get off the bus with him. I thought he said he was going to call or bring me to the police. But after a few minutes he just gave up and started walking away. Maybe it was the crowd starting to gather around us. I couldn't totally blame him. it was such a ridiculous sounding story. But he could  have been kinder.

I thought the problem was that metro tickets weren't good on the buses, and that was why the machine had rejected mine. But when, back at the apartment, I looked it up, I read that the tickets were good on both trains and buses , as I would have expected.. So I still don't know why mine was rejected. I just know that if it  happens again I  will go up to the driver and explain my problem. Meanwhile if anyone knows the answer please let me know asap. 

Enjoy yourself, it's later than you think

Oh those fragments of songs from decades ago that stay in your head. Who was that one? Perry Como? I'll look it up later.

I've gotten used to the idea that it's ok to  spend half the day lounging around my apartment without feeling guilty.  I really can only do five or six hours, if that, gallivanting around the city. And there's pleasure to be found in the small things, like looking out the window at the iconic Paris rooftops while taking a shower. Or eating the raspberry tart that I bought the day before, even if it isn't quite as fresh as it was the previous day. 

I begin considering what to do that day by late morning. Having a tentative destination has always been my strategy. and see what happens. It hasn't always been good, but the bad experiences usually become good stories with the passing if enough time. 

So  ; I did eventually return to the Musee des arts Decoratif after discovering the loss if my wallet a day before.  And the exhibit about the beginning and growth of the Paris department stores  was wonderful. I've never been disappointed there, even when the subject isn't what I'd normally be drawn to, like sports fashion, prior to the Olympics last year. 

My goal this year was to take in a half dozen museums in a two week stay, not an unreasonable one, I thought. But I've had to revise it. I'm up to four now, with 4 more days here, and if that's it; so be it.

I want to recount my visit to the Musee des Arts Naif, an unexpected treasure. I'd never even heard of it before, and don't see it mentioned even in any of the off the beaten path sites. It was a walkable distance from my apartment;  in  the Montmartre area. But, of course I never did find it that day. But I did have a nice walk around the 18th arrondissement. 

I did find it in my second attempt a few days later, approaching from a different angle. And what a treasure! It's within an old hall of some kind, maybe a market. Art naif is I think,  interpreted in different ways by different folks, much as outsider art is in English. It can mean by self taught artists, or sometimes as what we consider folk artists. Then there is also the term art brut which factors in there somehow.

In this case the artist is Gilbert Peyre  who describes himself as an electromechanical maniac, or something like that. His works are kinetic sculptures that are bizarre enough on their own; but are only truly appreciated when electrically animated. When I was there a guide gave a tour, activating the pieces one by one. A few required audience participation. I don't know how frequent the tours are, but make sure you get to see the works in action. 

There is another exhibit at  the hall, which I actually saw first, by artist and poet Malcolm de Chazal who was from Mauritius, an African island country about which I knew nothing until now.  His paintings are bright and in some cases almost childlike, in some cases featuring a single item such as a bird. The Peyre exhibit is there until July of 2025. I am not sure about the de Chazal. 

The third museum I visited was the Pompidou, which I visited last year and might not have visited this time but for two reasons. One us that it's closing soon for several years of renovations .  Not that I expect to be back in the next couple of years. But one never knows especially if another mosaic mural workshop with Laurel and Valerie  was to be announced. But the major reason is the current Surrealism exhibit. I can't get an advance ticket for any museum or site since all my credit cards were stolen.  So I resigned myself to standing in the no ticket line.  It took an hour. It seemed that nearly all the people in line were French. I did hear a bit of German and a little British sounding English. 

The exhibit itself was packed and overwhelming. It was much like those blockbuster exhibits at home. And it was very very long,  just room after room. Several times I thought I was approaching the end and was wrong. There many paintings that were recognizable as by Dali or Magritte or Miro or de Chirico but not works I had ever seen before, and many by artists with whom I was unfamiliar.  I had originally thought I'd visit some of the permanent collection, but after an hour in line and probably two hours in  the exhibit I was exhausted. 

And onto Paris

I am now happily ensconsed in my Paris apartment.  It is my fourth day here. I am on rue Stephenson in the 18th arrondissement.  Complete with a view of the Eiffel Tower as well as Sacre Coeur. Well it would be , aside from the gray overcast weather. At the moment I can barely see the tower and might not at all if I didn't know it was there. 

The weather has been gloomy since I arrived, and rainy on and off. On Monday it cleared in the afternoon as I am hoping it will today. Yesterday afternoon it rained intermittently but just lightly as I roamed around. It only rained more heavily after I was back at home.

This apartment is quite nice and as well equipped as any I have ever stayed in.  There are more than ample closets and drawers. There are more condiments and spices than I could ever use. The freezer is full of stuff including what looks like a full chicken. I have not figured out if this was left by former visitors or if my host Hillaire lives here some of the time. The medicine is filled with more toiletries than I have at home. I guess i should ask him before I eat more of his food!

The layout and decor are great. These are my only complaints: The apartment is directly beside some major train tracks, coming from Gare du Nord i think, so there is the frequent rumble of trains going by. But it is a muffled rumble since we are on the 7th floor, and so tolerable.  More of an issue is that we are about a ten minute walk from any of three metro stations, which is a lot more than I am used to in Paris. It would not be an issue for many people, or for me in the past. But I have had limited stamina for the last year or two, and get very tired after walking for just a few minutes so have to pace myself. Frustrating since walking ³is one of the great pleasures of being in Paris. 

My modus operandi in the past has been to have a tentative destination and walk toward it, while being open to other possibilities along the way. That is pretty much what happened yesterday. I set out heading toward a museum I'd not heard of before , the Musee d'Art Naif. I thought I'd had my maps app loaded on line, which turned out not to be true. But I did at least have the map so could see where I was headed, or so I thought. But got twisted and never found the museum.  Did have an interesting walk around the quarter though. I stopped at one of the few pattiseries I have found that has seating. Ordered a chocolate pistachio mousse cake and a hot chocolate before I saw that they also  had baguette sandwiches, so that was my lunch. It felt good to sit down for a while. 

The neighborhood is largely African, as I remembered from one of my previous visits some years ago when I worked on a volunteer project designing a small garden for a community center. That one involved mosaics too, inadvertently. When we visited the Paris mosque they were replacing the blue and white tiles on the interior pillars and I asked if we could have them for our garden.

In this neighborhood more of the restaurants are African - Tunisian, Somali, etc. than typical French. At home I prefer ethnic restaurants, but here I want more French food. There's a bistro right next door to me though, and another couple just down the street which I am sure I will try.  I have already eaten at Momo downstairs.  Had a delicious salad topped with generous chunks of salmon. And a citron presse, kind of a make your own lemonade with fresh squeezed lemon juice. 

There's a multitude of fabric shops in the neighborhood.  Most have bolts of fabric piled messily  in the window. A few have more elegant displays, outfits on mannequins in the windows,  fabric displayed appealingly along the wall. I guess they'd more properly called tailor shops. Some have displays of hats as well which I guess are handmade. I of course am tempted.

The

sun is breaking through.   Time to get mobilized. Which museum shall I head toward today?  The Pompidou? The Musee des Arts Decoratif? (My favorite). Hope my two cups of coffee give me some stamina.

Joanna and the terrible, horrible; no good, very bad day! ( with apologies to author Judith Viorst(

A couple of days have gone by, so I can look back and laugh at my disasterous day now (well almost) Here is what happened. I woke up feeling fine, lounged around a bit, actually quite a bit, before heading out for the Musee des Arts Decoratif, probably my favorite museum here. Bought my little packet 1aof metro tickets and got on the train. Walked past the hordes milling around the Louvre and the Rue de Rivoli. No intention to visit there this time around. The Musee des arts Decoratif is much less visited, but entirely worth one's while. I browsed thru the gift shop first, then headed for the short line waiting to enter the museum. I searched my bag for my little change purse, which holds quite a bit more than change, including my charge cards, health insurance info, and about 60 euros. It often gets buried in my large cross body bag. Nothing there. I left the line and looked more throughly, still not finding it. It was gone. I explained to the guards, who were sympathetic and said I needed to report it to the police, and fetched me a map showing the headquarters, telling me it was a 15 minute walk. It took me a half hour. It started to rain. I got to the police office, right near the Champs Elysees. They buzzed me in and were quite kind. They said it happened every day. There were two Asian men also there. The younger one told me that the older one's wallet had been stolen too. As they left, a woman entered and said that her passport had been stolen. I still found it hard to believe that someone had taken my little purse. My bag, a cross body, sat on my hip. It had a flap that was closed. It hadn't been slit. And how, among all the things inside, phone, kindle, notebook, umbrella, glasses case, more, had they managed to pick out the little purse? The last time I remembered using the purse was when I purchased the metro tickets. But I had opened the bag in the museum shop, to put my hat in because it was hot inside. I also took off my light sweater. Could I have dropped it then? I'd had the shop staff look but nothing had been turned in. Two cops took my report, had me sign it, and gave me a copy. I had zero money, no way to take the metro home. The Canadian woman reporting her passport stolen offered to give me money for the metro. But one of the police officers handed me a five euro note. I hope I can find a way to thank him, maybe report his kindness to his superior? Oh, and if things weren't bad enough, on leaving the police station I realized I no longer had my sweater. I went back but hadn't left it there. So, I must have left it on the park bench where I sat briefly, in the rain, resting part way on my way to the police. Not only one of my favorite sweaters, but also my warmest layer. I walked to the metro, missing the stop I thought was closest, but then stumbling onto another one. It was another wet and now windy walk. My umbrella became impossible to hold and turned inside out. When I finally got home, my clothes were soaked through. My shoes took two days to dry out. I was still shaken up, but at least had dry clothes and warm food to comfort me. I messaged my airbnb host and explained about the umbrella, offering to buy him a new one. He said it wasn't necessary, it could have happened to him. Another act of kindness. He said I had been very kind to offer. I talked to Carolina and asked her to send me some money. I asked for $500 but am not sure that will last me another week of having to pay cash for everything. I do have about $60 in dollars that I can exchange. And Loring is now back from his two week wilderness trip so I won't have to ask Carolina to front me money again. She was so good and efficient about it, sending it through Western Union. QThere are numerous shops with Western Union signs, but they apparently can only send money, not receive it. Or at least not in that quantity. Several stores sent me to the next one down the street, until I eventually asked a hotel clerk, who explained that I needed to go to the actual Western Union office, and showed me on a map how to get there. So, after nearly two hours of walking around, I was able to get the money. 1qThe next day I reported my credit cards stolen. There was one charge that had happened after I bought the packet of metro tickets. It was for about $150 and I don't remember charging anything then. although it's entirely possible that I did and forgot. The next day I went back to the museum, still wanting to visit. I asked once again if anything had been turned in. Once again, the museum staff was very kind. One of them remembered me. Another one said I'd been very brave to return to the museum. (to the scene of the crime, I guess.) I told her it was my favorite museum in Paris, and I was determined to visit. To be continued, with my visit to the exhibit about the beginning and history of the famous department stores of Paris. Addendum: I think I've figured it out. Someone must have grabbed it from me as I took the one metro ticket to use and put the rest back in the pouch to put in my larger bag.

My new French Adventure - Mosaicing in Provence 2024

Here I am once again in southern France at one more mosaic project. I really hadn't intended to come here or no anywhere while Loring was on his wilderness trip this year. until I saw that two of my favorite mosaic tea hears were doing a other workshop together and the dates coincided with Loring's trip, I couldn't really saw no. so I am once again in Avignon where I spent a sojourn six years ago with Valerie and Laurel at Valerie's: atelier on the outskirts of Avignon. this time it's a little different. we are not making pieces for ourselves but rather a collaborative mural for the local school which we will install at the end of the week. And we are not going on trips organized be the instructors which is fine.I dont feel the need to revisit those places although I am glad to have visited them, especially the hospital where Van Gogh had committed himself, and our wonderful picnic in the lavender fields. I am much more content working on a group project and spending time by myself In my charming accommodation in the former abbey or cloister or whatever it once was. More research needed and more about it later. for now I'll say that I am quite pleased here. ******************************************** It is now one week later. The project is finished and I am now ensconsed in my apartment in Paris for the next two weeks. I will try to encapsulate the major points of our wonderful week and hopefully catch up to the present before it procedes too much! I stayed for the week in Villesnueves les Avignon, basically a suburb of Avignon. It's the same town where our whole group stayed in the Hotel L'Atelier six years ago. This time, Valerie had reserved for me a room in a nearby b&b called the Cloitre. It was part of an old church compound that the couple had purchased about thirty years ago and turned into accomodations. I was not only the only one from our group staying there, but the only one at all. Which was wonderful. There were a couple of larger apartments with kitchens, and I guess a couple of other rooms that I didn't see. They gave me the choice, and the one I selected had the most charm. It fronted on a little courtyard that I only sat in once, to eat the second half of a salad I'd purchased earlier in the day. It was corn and avocado and tuna and the longest grain rice I've ever seen. I'd bought at when we took a lunch break at the atelier, part of a set meal that included a drink and a dessert, a beautiful raspberry tart, one of my favorites. I knew I couldn't eat the whole thing, and the tart wouldn't travel well back to my home, so I ate half the salad and brought it home for later. Only trouble, I didn't have a fork and was at first at a loss as to how to eat it. Came up with the idea of using one of my hair combs, which actually worked quite well. in Chez mois, the owners sat with me every morning at breakfast and we chatted in French a great chance for me to practice since they spoke very little English. They were very interested in the mosaic project, and every morning I showed them pictures from the day before. My breakfast consisted of coffee, oj, slices of baguette, a crosissant, yogurt, a pear, and apricot jam made by Mr. Host, whose name I have unfortunately forgotten. Her name is Michele with one L. (as she told me.) Our group itself was over half French speaking, which was great. They were almost all French, with one German woman, Carola, who has been Valerie's friend for about thirty years. And there was Marjorie, who is French but has lived in Portugal for a number of years. She had driven the seven hours from her home in two days. She gave me a ride to the atelier the first few mornnings, until her car became too full with things she was bringing back to Portugal so that she didn't have room for me anymore! At least four or five of the group had cars, very different from the previous group I'd participated in, where we all came from abroad. Of the five Americans, three of us had New Mexico connections, an odd coincidence. Nancy lives part of the year in France, where she and her husband have a 200+ year old home, and the rest of the year in Taos. Pat had just moved to Truth or Consequences (yes there's a story behind the name that dates back before I lived there 50 years ago.) And I was the third, having lived in Albuquerque for five years in the 1970s. The project was five days long. At first it seemed to go so slowly, not in a bad way. I was just amazed at how much we had accomplished in just the first two days. And then the rest went so quickly, it was over before we knew it. It was a mixture of presentations by Laurel, a prolific mosaic artist for about 30 years. I will try to scoot back and write some more just about her later. and the rest was very hands on. Everything Laurel said was translated into French by Valerie and sometimes Carola. This was great French practice for me and everyone, I think, some of the others in English, because we all heard it twice in our own and the other language. And as someone pointed out, it was also great in terms of reinforcing the technical parts of things as well, to hear it twice. The lessons were about materials, both for the tiles and the adhesive andd grout, the techniques of cutting and placing, the tools, and much more. And everything was interspersed with actual hands on activites, first to experiment,then to actually start creating the mural. Laurel had already created the design, on paper. It used a mix of ceramic and glass tile, and mirror, some precut, others, for the background, were pieces of tile that we cut ourselves. We used Laurell's technique of taping. First, we laid clear contact paper over the design. Then we pressed the tile tesserae onto the contact paper, using Laurel's drawing as a guide, but not sticking strictly to her drawing, using it more as a guideline. With the contact paper pieces were easy to remove and replace where necessary. We did the mirror pieces first, having sliced them into thin strips. It was almost like doing the outside pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, although the mirrored lines didn't totally form a frame, but were interspersed with the design. We used some hand made ceramic pieces that Valerie had made, And Jan had made and brought, at Laurel's request, some pieces from home that she had made and that we all salivated over. Several folks asked her if she sold her handmade pieces, which she said she did not. But on the last day she gave us all little gift bags with several pieces for each of us. And we all said we'd share how we eventually used them. What a nice surprise. I think Jan was the oldest person in the group. She was turning 79, today I think. She seemed much younger to me, not just in looks but in spirit. There was at least one other person older than me, perhaps more. Most of the others, I would guess, were in their 30s and 40s. We had cut the design in three pieces, two outer rings and one center circle. The center sections had five of us working on each, and the center had two, with Valeries and Laurel supervising and suggesting. We had to make sure that each outer grooup had the same configuration, and in some cases, had to adjust. On the fourth day, we sliced each of the outer pieces in two, creating five total, and covered the top of each completely with a stronger clear tape. We then transported them all, along with all the materials for adhering and grouting it to the wall at the Jules Ferry elementary school in Los Angles, where Valerie's studio is located, about a ten minute drive from there. We had marked each piece with numbers and line to insure they went up properly aligned. The yellow wall, under an overhang adjacent to the school playground, was then spread with thinset, the adhesitive, to the outline of the design Laurel had previouslly sketched on the wall. This is one of the trickiest parts. The individual pieces, even in five segments, are heavy and took two to three people to carry over to the wall from where we'd laid them on the ground. And once they are pressed into the wall, there is limited abililty to move them. In the midst of this process, the children came out for recess and most of them stopped to watch, clearly entranced. We later found out that the school had decided to take the class pictures in front of the mural this year.For me, this was one of the most special parts of the whole process. It would be one thing to have the mural entirely installed when the children first saw it. But them watching us do it, at a couple of different points in the process, hopefully has given them an investment in the piece, and maybe a motivation to do something artistic themselves. The final parts of the installation involved pressing every tile into the thinset base, then carefully cutting and peeling away every piece of the outer layers of tape. And then, the last day, mixing and applying the grout. There had been some discussion about grout color because the color the grout can seriously effect the image of the mosaic. Laurel had originally gone for terracotta, but then rethought it and decided on gray. But Valerie convinced her to stay with the terracotta, which she, and I think everyone, in the end was very pleased with. I don't know what the gray would have looked like but the terracotta looks beautiful. I asked and found out that there are apps that will show you what your finished piece will look like with different grouts, which would be interesting to see for some future project. The final task was to sponge away all the extra grout (because you first spread it over the entire piece) andd lastly, to scrape away any amount that have clung to the tiles rather than just in the joints between them. We did that with small wooden scrapers. The next to last night we convened for champagne and tapas at L'Annex restaurant in Villenueve, a short walk from my delightful accomodations. And the following day, with the mural installated and grouted, we had a potluck consisting of wonderful vegetable tartes, patisseries, fruits, and much more, including, again, champagne, to toast ourselves and the project. I left early the next morning, yesterday, by train back to Paris, where I am now.

To Hergla and then home.

We are now at our final stop of the trip, at the Dar Khadija in Hergla. We will head directly from here to the airport, about an hour from here. It is a wonderful place, and a great place to spend the last two nights of our trip. We drove about five hours yesterday from Tammamont Home, where we'd spent the previous two nights. Now, to our last day in the country. We spent yesterday afternoon walking around the pleasant town. It’s so much more authentic and lovelier than Sidu bou Said, the town everyone recommends and most of the tourists, us included, go to. Our host here, when I told him that, said that people call Hergla the little Sidu bou Said. It’s on the ocean, and we walked down to where we thought the beach must be, but found only a rocky and not very appealing shore. Last night we were on our own for supper, and found a delightful little restaurant we had walked past earlier in the day. I told the man then, when I peeked in, that we weren’t hungry then but might come back later. And we did. He’d said there was fish on the menu, and we hadn’t had any fish during our two weeks. A woman in a shop we’d been in recommended the place, and said the fish was always caught fresh that day. When we knocked on and opened the door, the man was inside the doorway sitting at an easel and painting. He led us up some stairs where there were a few tables. We were the only customers. A young and and older woman who we assumed were his wife and daughter went into the kitchen and we soon heard the sound of frying. The fish was delicious. I think I understood him to say it was dorado. We don’t know if there was anything else on the menu, and it didn’t matter. The fish was served with fries and salad, as most every meal we've had is. Today was Mohsen’s last day as our driver. He went home to Marsa after he brought us back here. This morning and afternoon we went to Nabeul, known for its pottery. We stopped at the first shop where Mohsen could park on the busy street. Spent a half hour or more wandering around and watching the potter spin small pots on a wheel, and a man and a woman hand painting tiles. I asked if they had any small broken scraps, not sure if they would understand the concept of making pique assiette mosaics from broken pieces of pottery. They did, but told me that an Italian woman had been there the day before and took all the broken pieces they had. We bought a few small tiles and then went to another much bigger store. Although we’d already bought all we thought we could carry home, we wandered around and bought a few more small pieces. I again asked if they had any small broken shards. At first they said no, but when Mohsen or Sadok asked a little later, they came back with a small bag of scraps. I offered to pay him something but he waved me off. Crazy American, he was probably thinking. After another hour’s drive, we arrived in Zaguan, where we were met by our guide of the day. All of our guides have been very knowledgeable and personable. We’ve had a different one in each location, for walking and/or driving tours, probably six or seven in total, including our overnight camel driver and guide to camping in the desert. We’ve probably absorbed about half of what they’ve told us about the history of the place, and then probably forgotten at least half of that. Today we saw the Roman fountain and the beginning of the aqueduct that runs from there to Carthage, where we had seen the other end of the 132-kilometer-long water system. Today’s guide was very informed about the local and national agencies, as well as the Italian government, that help fund the excavation and protection of various archeological sites around the country. He stressed that the community was always having to ask government agencies for funding. But he also stressed that he only criticized the government because he cared deeply about his country, and that it wasn’t a matter of politics. He showed us various sites within the city, where he had grown up and still lived, including the primary school he had attended. In addition to being a guide he is a middle school teacher of English. I would have guessed he was a history teacher because of his intense knowledge of local history. He also took us to a 17th century mausoleum and told us about the man who had greatly helped the poor of the city. And he told us about various local festivals, one of which we had just missed by a few days. If we had known about it we might have considered visiting there first and making an opposite journey around the country. Sometimes small local festivals are the best of all. We had one last late lunch at another guest house in Zaguan. We met the owner, who was waiting for us with our lunch ready. She told us that the house, which has two guest rooms, had been her grandmother’s, and that her mother had been born there. She told us the story of a woman from the town who was very famous because she had received her doctorate, in French literature, when she was in her 80s. And then she said, “and that woman was my mother.” She wasso proud of her mother, who had just died a few years before. The owner said that she lived in Tunis, but came to town and the family home when she had customers. The place we are staying here, in Hergla, is also an old family home, which is true of many or most of the small guest houses in the country. I believe the same family still owns it, but they don’t live here. There are four or five guest rooms, each named for one of the grandchildren. It’s really a charming place, with the guest rooms surrounding a pool and patio, and additional sitting areas on a second and third level. There is a living room and a kitchen which guests are welcome to use. There are antiques and art all around the house. As everywhere we’ve been, aside from our Tunis airbnb, we have been served a sumptuous breakfast. That, with a second meal either in the afternoon or evening, is almost more than we can eat. It took us several days to convince our agents who have made our travel arrangements that we can’t eat three full meals a day! Breakfast here this morning included two kinds of bread, cake, fried eggs, cheese, yogurt, butter, jam, cucumber and tomato salad, and halvah! And coffee or tea. Other places have had similar spreads, In some places we’ve had hard boiled eggs. Sometimes we’ve had fresh cheese, in other places we’ve had little triangular cheese sections similar to the laughing cow cheese that was at one time fairly popular at home in the U.S. Lunches and dinners have been similar from place to place. First, salad, either cucumbers and tomatoes, sometimes onions and or lettuce, Then, a tomato based soup, somewhat spicy, with parsley and mayble other herbs, and perhaps corn or chick peas or rice.Then, a salad based on green peppers similar to New Mexico hatch chiles, which we still love after 50 years since we’ve lived there, and also a small amount of tomato, capers, and olive oil. Olive oil is served with pretty much everything, as are slices of lemon. Oh, and I almost forgot brik, little flaky pastries with dough similar to filo, stuffed with egg, potato, parsley, and maybe another green like spinach. The fillings vary in the proportions of the ingredients. I like the ones that are heavy on the greens and not as much on the eggs the best. They are sometimes in the shape of triangles and other times are rectangular. I am going to try to make some when we get back home. And just when you think you can’t eat any more comes the main dish, a stew with meat and usually a hot green pepper, and either couscous (which is actually a very fine pasta made from wheat, or another grain. ) Today’s was served with tiny little pasta squares, handmade, the owner told me, as I had guessed. I had about three or four servings of that. On the topic of food, a funny anecdote. We’ve seen trucks on the road hauling various loads of produce. Yesterday, we commented on one filled mostly with cantaloupes, with a few watermelons thrown in, as it passed us on the highway. Mohsen immediately pulled up alongside the truck, rolled down the passenger side window, and said something to the driver. Both Mohsen and the truck driver then pulled over to the side of the road, where Mohsen picked out four canteloupes, one for us and the others for him and his family. About fifteen minutes or so down the road, we passed the melon truck again, and both drivers tooted their horns at each other. There have been various vendors alongside the roads as we have driven around the country. In some cases, they are selling tea, according to Mohsen. In other places, it’s been loaves of fresh bread they hold out as we drive by. In other locations, it’s been fruit, strawberries in one stretch, oranges in another. And now, as we drive to the airport , some general thoughts and observations that I may have missed before now: First, the acres and acres of agricultural land throughout the country. Mostly olive trees further than one could even see. Tunisia is the fourth largest exporter, or maybe producer, of olive oil in the world, as more than one of our guides informed us. But the first in quality, they added. When we chuckled at their pride in their country, I hope we didn’t offend them. They each assured us that it was true, that Tunisian olive oils had won awards multiple years in international competitions. I hope we have time to buy a bottle at the airport . Right now we are stuck in traffic going thru Tunis so it’s possible we won’t. Next observation – storks. Yes, storks. The large black and white birds make their nests in power line towers along the sides of many of the roads we’ve travelled along over our travels. Sometimes there are multiple nests in a tower, and most of them have a bird sitting in them. In one tower we saw five nests. Our driver this morning said they nest here and then go elsewhere in the hot summer. I think they are common enough that the locals take them for granted. Our driver called them cygales, which sounded to us like seagulls. I thought at first he had the wrong English name. But we looked it up and realized what he was saying. I want to tell Achcraf to have guides or drivers point them out to other tourists, who might not notice them, because they are really impressive. We assume they are nesting now and will soon fly to other places that are not as hot in the summer. Tha architecture here is largely brick covered over by stucco, often the tan color of the desert sand, in other places, in the towns, whitewashed and often with blue trim. There isn’t one particular blue, but a range of blue hues. Architectural decoration includes metal, in doors, wrought ironwork, and studded doors. Some doors are wooden, some look ancient, but I am not sure they actually are. Tile decoration is common, as I had expected, often around the doorframes of houses and businesses, and sometimes more elaborate murals. It is difficult for me to discern if some of the incomplete buildings are ancient or recent. I asked one of our guides if he could tell, and he said no, because the construction methods were the same. There are also many sites of Roman and other ruins, some of which we visited, others about we heard or read. Some are still being discovered, and hopefully with more government funding more sites will be unearthed. Everywhere, around the country, are buildings in a state of construction and others in a state of decay. Some surely are being built in stages as money is available, as we’ve seen in other countries we’ve travelled to in the past. Often there are poles of rebar jutting up as the beginning of a second or third floor to come. That makes sense to me in worker class construction. But there are also many McMansion like houses that are also partially constructed, which puzzles me. Do people with some means still construct to the extent of their finances, and only add to them when money allows? Some buildings seem occupied on their lower levels, others look entirely vacant. One of our guides explained that many Tunisians have moved to France to work, and build summer homes here. Summer? It is already hot enough in the desert areas now, at the beginning of May. But summer is the wedding season, he explains, and that’s when people come back to visit with family. It’s a little reminiscent of Vietnam, where we visited last year, in that there are many partly constrcted buildings. But there, there was a predominance of huge hotel buildings, never completed, lined up along boulevards overlooking but not directly on the beach. There, we think it was Chinese investment and construction which then dried up before development was completed. Yesterday, our last full day in the country, Loring discovered a cache of dinars that he had forgotten he had. We went back to a crafts store in Hergla, after our day of touring, that we had visited the previous day. I had admired some hand painted leather bags that had been made by a local artist, the son of a friend of the store owner. She was clearly European, spoke excellent English as well as French, and Arabic. It turns out she was Norwegian, married to a French man, and had lived in France for many years. But they spent several months a year in Tunisia and she ran the store there. We admired the bags and many other crafts, different from most of the crafts we’d seen in the country. I knew I didn’t need a new handbag at all. But when Loring discovered the extra money he said it must mean that I was meant to have the bag. It was about 5pm when we went back to the store, not knowing whether it would be open or not. It wasn’t but there was a sign on the door with a phone #, saying to call if she wasn’t there. Which we did. And about an hour later, she called us back and said she’d meet us there. She was with a friend who she told us was the mother of the artist who made the bags, as well as sandals, wallets, and small waist bags. I chose one partly because of the softness of the leather, and also because I thought the design was reminiscent of camels. Of course, I’ve been seeing camels eveywhere since our ride into the desert, in hills and sand dunes. The store owner said she’d told her friend about us, and wondered if we might come back. We were all pleased that the artist’s mother was there and that we met her, and told her to tell her son about us. Also, we’d told her about our trip and about having a driver for the whole way, which worked out so well. So she asked more about him, and we gave her Mohnsen’s name and contact info. I hope he’ll get some more business from the connection. When we returned to Dar Khadiha we were surprised to see a group of young women and a couple of men. It turns out that they were models and photographers doing a fashion shoot for a Tunis company that makes burkinis, modest swimwear for Muslim women. We later looked up their site, MayaSquare. While we were there, we took pictures of us and them, by us and them. As many others we'd run into had, they asked how we'd enjoyed our time in their country, and thanked us for visiting. This morning at the Tunis airport, I tried to spend the rest of our dinars, about $40 worth. At the duty free shop I picked out olive oil, a date liquor, stuffed dates, pistachio halva, a stuffed camel for Julian, and more. Only to find that they didn’t accept dinars. Nor did the snack shop near our gate, which seemed ridiculous. Oh well, I put back everything but the olive oil, which I charged to my credit card. Loring suggested I just pick some Tunisians and give them the dinars, but that didn’t seem practical to me and I didn’t want to risk offending anyone. If only we’d realized earlier we could have given the money to Mohsen. Well, this could be motivation for a return trip, or to encourage someone we know to visit the country. After all, it’s only a two hour flight from Paris. Hmmm.

Tunisia Thalatha (Three)

A couple of days later, we are now in Ksar Guilane in the desert,where we spent last night. I had wanted to visit the hot springs here, even knowing that they were a bit too touristic, as described by Achraf before our departure. Nevertheless, thermal springs, mud baths, and the like, are hard for me to resist. There were three guest houses listed online, and Achraf recommended we stay at this one, called EcoLodge, based partly on not so great recommendation about another one. I knew it was rather touristic, but still wanted to go. Wildyness had given us a choice of two guest houses, and suggested one of them, because the other didn’t have great reviews. The Eco Lodge, where we stayed, was about a mile from the spring. The other one was called the Pansy, and it turned out to be right at the spring. The Eco Lodge was our least favorite of the places we’ve stayed. It wasn’t terrible, and the people were nice. But it was kind of sterile. And we were the only ones staying there. Also, there was supposed to be a pool. There was, but it was empty, no water. Mohsen, our driver, thought the place was just a few months old, and they hadn’t set up the pool yet. That seems likely, but also means that the pool on their website was photoshopped. Luckily, although Mohsen said it was a short walk to the thermal pool. We convinced him to drive us there, and he waited for us for the hour we spent there. I don’t know what the Pansy was like, but think I would recommend checking it out further to anyone considering a visit. As for Mohsen, who stayed at another of the guest places, he said it was terrible, no electricity after 8pm until 7am, and no place to take a shower. The thermal pool itself was a perfect tepid temperature and was teeming with folks at some points during our hour there, and almost empty at others. I didn’t hear a word of English, most folks were French speaking, and a bit of Arabic and a smattering of Italian and German. Some had arrived on tourist buses, others by motorcycle, and others were riding quads either to or from the spring. There were a few cafes around the spring, and a few stalls with people selling crafts, t shirts, and the like. Many of the tourists, women as well as men, were wearing the long scarf wrapped turbans that the local men wear. We actually have not run into any American tourists, or even any English-speaking ones, although many of the French visitors as well as the staff at various places, do speak some English. And our guides have all spoken fairly good English. One of our guides, in El Kef, amused me by repeatedly addressing us as "ladies and gentlemen” although it was just the two of us. The English teacher in me thought about correcting him, thinking that as a guide he might appreciate knowing that it was correct only for multiples. But then again, I didn’t want to embarrass him, and besides, it was pretty endearing. And then, a day or two later, our next guide used the same phrase, so I gather it wasn’t just the first guide, or that it was unusual for them to be guiding just a couple of people. We have moved on to our next destination at Tadarromt Home, a trogolyte guest house. Only 20 people live here in Tadorromt, about a half hour from Tatatouine, where we stopped for lunch. Trogolyte, according to many sources, means brute or hermit or a few other things, but here it means a cave house. This one has only one guest room, or I should say suite. We have a living room, two bedrooms, and a bathroom, all charming and very authentic feeling. Two older sisters live here and run the place. They are probably cooking us dinner now, and will serve us breakfast tomorrow and the following day. I took a peek into their room, at the woman’s urging, and it loooks like our living room, low mattress and many pillows, all in predominantly red patterns. And many rugs covering the floors. It is the first place we’ve stayed, ,other than camping in the desert, where we’ve not had ac. But indoors, it is cool enough that I had to put on a layer! We should be eating dinner soon, since we’ve been served around 7 or 730 each evening. I don’t smell anything yet. But we’ve heard an intermittent beeping which Loring thinks is a microwave. Which seems a bit incongruous, but not unlikely. The most incongruous thing that I’ve encountered so far was on our camel trek to camp out in a tent in the desert, a couple of nights ago. After a ride of about 45 minutes, led by our camel driver, he set up our tent, cooked us dinner, and then answered the ring of his cell phone. Now, I’ll backtrack a couple of days to our adventure camping in the desert. We’d had the choice of camping in tents at the base camp, or riding by camel to camp in a tent in the desert, which is what we chose.My guess is that we’re in the minority of the folks that visit there, although once at our spot we could see a couple of camels a few dunes over. The camels were loaded with all kinds of cushions and cushiony blankets, water jugs, and more, before we mounted them. I soon realized that the blankets and pads were our sleeping matter for the night. Our driver took our overnight daypacks ( an oxymoron?) and tied them on. Mounting a camel is a bit of a challenge, which I remembered from my previous camel ride about a decade ago in Israel. It’s kind of a three step process for the camel to stand or sit. Its back legs have two joints. First the first part of the back, then the front legs, then the other part of the back legs. So you have to cling on as you get thrust first forward, then back, before the animal is fully standing. My camel was tied to Loring’s camel, and his was led by the camel driver. The camels stop at every chance to munch on brush, which the driver sometimes allowed while at other times jerked the anlimals away. Because mine was behind the other, it got yanked more after the first camel had chomped on the bush, And every time I was afraid I’d lose my balance and fall off. Nevertheless, it was a great evperience and I did manage to stay on for a the whole ride. When we got to the camping spot, which the guide seemed to just decide at the moment, he unloaded all the gear, including two modern thermarest type pads, like the one Loring uses on his wilderness hikes. And the tent, to my surprise, was a Quechua brand pup tent with a rain fly. (which was totally unnessacery which he set up nevertheless.). The best part was when he collected some of the sparce firewood and cooked our dinner, and then breakfast the next morning. He set up three empty cans and weighted them down with sand, set a small fire underneath them. From a large cloth sack he took out onions, tomatoes, peppers, ( he gave us a slice to make sure it wasn’t too hot for us), then some frozen mutton, canned tomato sauce, and made a stew. In a second level pot like a double boiler he put couscous to cook above the stew. He wet napkins and wrapped strands of them around the seam between the upper and bottom level pots, perhaps to seal them or maybe to help steam the couscous. And then he made a salad of cucumbers, tomatoes, and onions. It was all delicious. After dinner, he took out a homemade flute that was merely a piece of metal pipe with holes, and serenaded us. Loring videoed him playing and then played it back for him, which seemed to really please him. We watched satellites and shooting stars for a while, then went to bed in the tent. Loring slept inside just for part of the night, then dragged his mat and blanket outside and slept under the stars. I was cosy inside the tent. I think our guide slept outdoors too, on the couch made of multiple blankets that he had set up next to the fire for us to recline on while we relaxed and ate. In the morning he made a dough that we think was just flour and water, flattened it out, and put in directly in the coals, covering it with additional coals. And took eggs and wrapped them in wet napkins and also put them directly in the fire. When he removed the bread from the fire and dusted it brieflly, there was no trace of ash remaining. The eggs were perfectly cooked, and as he asked/told us, better than if they were cooked in water. He put out a small dish of olive oil, and a jar of some kind of jam, perhaps fig. The dishes were washed with sand and rinsed with water from the large jugs the animals had carried. Then everything remaining went back in the bag, we took the tent down, repacked the camels with all the paraphernalia, and made our way back to the base camp and headed on our way to the next adventure.

TUNISIA TOO

Still in Tozeur, our third and last night here. The guest house is really lovely, only four rooms. They surround a courtyard, and there is a swimming pool. I went in yesterday, but only briefly. Loring has been in both days to swim a few laps. There is a family staying here, although we can’t figure out just how they are related. There are two little girls, and three women. One seems of an age to be their mother, and another might be the grandmother. There is a third woman, older still and dressed traditionally. Possibly the great grandmother? She was wearing a two piece embroidered outfit today, with a matching hat, not a hijab. She went in the water dressed in all of that. Not unusual, I have seen Arab women fully clothed in the ocean in Israel. Yesterday afternoon we went on a walking tour of the town and a date farm accompanied by our guide for here, Marouan. It was a lot of walking, partly because our guest house is on the edge of the town rather than the middle. It’s the only drawback to this place. We prefer to be in or near the center of town. The old town, or medina, was interesting as they always seem to be. The architecture here is different from the other places we’ve been. The buildings are all decorated with bricks in various patterns, very appealing. Marouan told us that each brick design has a name. He pointed out one that was the camel pattern, because it resembled a procession of camels. I could see it. We eventually came to a large orchard with many gated sections. In one section a gardener was working. He invited us in and he and Marouan told us a lot about date farming and harvesting. Each tree is climbed, quite high, not just to harvest the dates, but also to polinate them. The polinate themselves, but this process increases the amount of polination. They tie ribbons of the female part around the male parts, or maybe it’s the other way around. It wasn’t the harvest season, but beneath our feet were many dates, some looking only a bit dried up. I was tempted to pick one up, but refrained. The gardner suddenly scurried up one of the date palms, quite agiley. He wasn’t a young person. After he came down he told Marouan, who translated for us, that some years ago, he had fallen about 15 feet from a tree. He was taken to the hospital in Tunis, where he spent three months. Then he pulled up his shirt to show us a band wrapped tightly around his waist. I assume he wore that all the time. And still scooted up a tree easily. Marouan said he was a sharecropper. He maintained the place and could keep a fifth of the produce. On the way back to town we went to a small date museum. It explained a lot about the long history of date farming, and also, of course, sold date products. Marouan brought out a platter in the shape of Fatima’s hand, each finger holding a different type of date product. There were dates with cinnamon, with ginger, with orange, and with almonds. We chose a jar of date almond jam. I hope we don’t have a problem getting it back through customs. We’ve had trouble in the past with smoked Spanish ham, even though it was entirely sealed. We suspect the customs officers just wanted it for themselves. They had a whole room where they processed the dates, interesting to see although they weren’t working at the time. On our drive here from El Kef, every inch of the terrain was covered with orchards and various planted crops. The great majority were date palms and olive trees. But there were also lemon and orange trees, pomegranates, almonds, and probably others I can’t recall. Speaking of food products, I haven’t mentioned the town we stopped at on the way from Tunis to Dougga and El Kef. It is apparently is well known for its cheese. Mohsen, our driver, bought some bread from a boy on the street, and then took us to a cheese store. The merchant gave us a sliver of aged cheese to try, and then some fresh, which Mohsen bought for us. If I understood right, the cheese doesn’t have a name, just fresh, or aged. We’ve had the fresh cheese as part of our breakfasts, too, and it is delicious. It’s similar to farmer cheese. Back to Tozeur, where we are now. We spent most of the day, leaving the hotel around 9am, to tour the surrounding desert. First stop, the place where they filmed several of the Star Wars films. It is not a real village, but one constructed by George Lucas and company for the film. It’s fairly low key for a tourist destination, and there weren’t many people there when we arrived. But several groups arrived while we were there. There are a couple of men wanting to have you pose with their camels. And a large piece of fur or maybe synthetic material clearly meant to evoke Chewbacca and have you pose with it with your head above the fur. Loring tried to get me to do so, which I declined, but he willingly posed with it so I guess I’m allowed to post it. This is the second silly tourist post he posed for. Maybe I already mentioned this. There are many headless statues around the ruins in Carthage, Dougga, and Bella Reggia. The guides explained that the ancients would just replace the heads when there was a new ruler. I would think the rulers wouldn’t be happy with that, but apparently it was the thing to do. And now the thing to do is for us to pose with them. Loring wasn’t the first in the group we were with. That brings up another glitch in our itinerary. We were supposed to have a private guide in Bella Reggia, but that somehow didn’t happen. We waited while Mohsen talked with Sokal at Wildyness, and then apparentlly we were supposed to join up with a group of Americans, which I wasn’t thrilled about. In the end we wound up with a small group of Tunisian and French visitors, and it was fine. The other miscommunication we’ve encountered was when we arrived here in Tozeur a couple of days ago. The guest house in our itinerary, which Mohsen also had in his, didn’t have a reservation or any room for us. They did have a room for the second and third day, which we asked them to hold temporarily while we were brought to the place we are at now. Turns out the place hadn’t had room for us in the first place, and the reservation had been changed to here. But it had never been changed in our itinerary. It all worked out fine in the end, but was somewhat disconcerting to find out the first place had no reservation nor any place for us. On the other hand, Wildyness has been following us day to day through Whatssup, telling us about each day’s plan, and also checking in with Mohsen. We are all on a Whattsup group together, us, Mohsen, Sokal and Akshar. It can get a little confusing but is mostly working out well. Back to food (of course.) There is no way we can eat all we are served, or even three meals a day at all. Breakfast and dinner seems to work well, although the quantity is still overwhelming. Today, when we realized we were going to have a big lunch after visiting the sites, we asked Marouan if we could cancel the dinner we had already ordered here for tonite, it it was not too late. He called and they said it was fine. We asked for just some salad and fruit, which I guess we will be served fairly soon, as it is approaching 7pm. Last night they asked if we wanted to eat indoors, in the dining room, where we’ve had breakfast, or outdoors. When we chose outdoors, they set up a table for us in the center of the courtyard. Our meal was an order of camel and one of chicken. ( partly in case we didn’t like the camel.) But was actually delicious, kind of a cross between lamb and beef. With it were two kinds of salad , large bowls of couscous which we couldn ‘t finish, a light dessert of chopped oranges and dates. The chicken was cooked in a crockery jar that was sealed closed with what we think was a flour paste, in a fire, and then unsealed to serve. For drinks we have been served water with lemon and mint, and also what they have called lemon juice, which is lemonade. And also fresh orange juice at some locations.

TUNISIAN SOJURN

We are in El Kef, Tunisia, about halfway through our Tunisian sojouorn of two weeks. We’ve spent the last two nights here, and are about to take off to our next destination, Tozeur. It’s about a fiv e or six hour drive from here, the longest drive we’ll have on our trip. We are not driving ourselves, have a driver for the whole duration of the trip, except for the first three days in Tunis. Monsen is staying with us, at the same guest house, here, and I am assuming at the other stops along the way as well. (except perhaps for the night we go by camel to a desert location and camp out!) WE are travelling by ourselves, not with a group. But the arrangements have been made by a Tunisian organization called Wildyness. This is similar to the type of arrangements we made last year in Vietnam. There, we had a different driver and guide at each stop, with one handing us over to the next, or putting us on a flight or train to be picked up on the other end. That worked quite well, as it seems to be doing here as well. Wildyness is a young company run by a Tunisian couple who had travelled widely until deciding to promote tourism in their own country. I had looked into several companies and chose them just because they are Tunisia based, and have personal relationships with the guides and guest houses with whom they work. In Vietnam we worked with a London based company who works with agents in each place to which they organize travel. There are many companies that do this type of customized trip to many different countries. Wildyness works only in Tunisia, and things seem to be working quite well so far, with a few quirks. More about that later. Our trip started out rather inauspiciouly. On the morning of the day we were supposed to leave Boston at 5pm, we received an email from Air France saying that our flight from Paris to Tunis had been cancelled. Whaaa? Turns out that the French air controllers were planning to strike, and over half the flights from Paris had been cancelled. We were able to reschedule to a later flight, with a five hour layover in Paris, meaning instead of arriving early in the am we didn’t get get there until late at night, effectively cutting out the first day of our trip. ************************************* Later, now writing from Tozeur, two stops down the road from Tunis. We are staying at a delightful guest house. I could just relax here for the next three days. This morning we are doing just that. This afternoon at about 2:30 we will have a guide for a walking tour of Touzeur and a visit to a date farm. Dates are ubiquitous here. We had them awaiting us at our airbnb in Tunis, and they have been served as part of our breakfasts since. In Tunis, Jazmin, our host, told us to roll them first between our fingers to soften them and release the flavor. Not sure it really makes a difference, but it’s a pleasant custom that I hope I’ll continue at home. During our two nights in El Kef we visited first the impressive ruins at Dougga, andd the next day, backtracked a bit to also visit the site of Bulla Regia. I’d read about Bulla Regia having the best preserved mosaics still in situ in Tunisia. Most are in the Bardo, which we had visited in Tunis. And they are indeed impressive there. But there is something about seeing them still in their orginal site that can’t compare to seeing them removed to a museum, even as spectacular as those are. Forgive me for bouncing around and back and forth from place to place as I write, as I am always doing. I write off the cuff, pretty much unedited, always trying to catch up. I hope it makes sense to you, if you are reading this. So, back to Tunis. We stayed there at a wonderful airbnb, one of the most delightful we’ve ever stayed at. I found it after Wildyness realized that their first two recommended guest houses, and then the couple after that, had no space available. These are mostly family run places with only a few rooms, and since we had started planning these trips only three weeks before our departure, perhaps not surprising. They had all sounded charming, and we were temporarily frustrated, until I saw the airbnb listing. It’s an apartment in the medina, the old part of the city, with its winding cobblestone streets and passages, some, like ours, inaccessable by car. We had to walk a couple of blocks with our luggage, which wasn’t a problem and just added to the charm. Jazmin and family had totally renovated it, I believe it had been abandoned, There are many such buildings in the medina, and also in the newer parts of the city. When I admired the tiled interior walls, she said they had been there in the building, and they reused them. The most unusual feature was an elevator, installed in the hallway between the kitchen and the living room, to take one up to the roof and deck with several couches. Jasmin said her father had constructed it. We went up there once, but Loring said it made him very nervous, and since he is an engineer I took him at his word. The place had two bedrooms, one of which became Loring’s walk-in closet, a lovely living room, and was decorated modernly traditional, if that makes sense. I highly recommend it if you happen to be going to Tunis and looking for someplace to stay. And Jasmin herself was very personable, even picked us up at the airport close to midnight, instead of the 9am time we were originally scheduled to arrive. (the air controllers’ strike, by the way, was cancelled before it happened, but our flight and many others had themselves been cancelled too late to reschedule.) In Tunis we spent one afternoon at the Bardo Museum, famed for its mosaics, and a must to visit. We found out that it had been closed for renovations and only recently reopened last September. I would have been really disappointed if we couldn’t visit. The museum had actually been attacked by terrorists in 2015, which I suppose would have been part, maybe all the cause of the renovations. On leaving the museum I had seen a mosaiced plaque in the entranceway with a list of names and countries. It looked like a plaque listing donors. It seemed peculiar for donors to have come from many different countries. I only realized later that they were the names of the people who had died in the attack, and the countries they had come from. I remember Poland and Japan, not sure of the other nationalities. There were 22 that had been killed From Tunis we took an afteroon’s trip to Carthage and Sidi bu Said. Carthage is a large area of ruins, with a complicated history that our guide told us in great detail. I was only able to absorb a small part of it, because of the detail, not because of his English skills, which are quite good. There were four different civilizations that inhabited it after time. If I am remembering right, there were the Phoenicians, Bizantines, Carthaginians, and Romans. No, that’s not right, I think the Vandals were in there too. I know the Romans destroyed the Carthagians, and the Vandals obviously destroyed something! I may have to go back and research it some more. What is most amazing is how extensive these ruins are, and how they were entirely buried until rediscovered in the 19th century. And that there are large unexcavated areas, less than half has been unearthed because the land is privately owned. There are sections of various columns and fragments of buildings strewn around the ruins, and in the countryside as well. We then visited the city of Sidi bu Said, described as the scenic blue and white city. It seems like an upper class suburb of Tunis. It is scenic, on a hillside, but marred by the fact that it was seething with visitors, some foreign but at least half what seemed to be either Tunisians or other Arabs, the women mostly in hijabs. We had to elbow ourselves up the main route. It was certainly trendy, too much so for us. Our guide mentioned that the American Ambassador lived, there, and also pointed out the former house of a famous local fashion designer who had clothed people like Madonna. Apparently many celebrities came came to his funeral. I had wanted to meet Achraf, the founder of the travel organization who’d helped plan our trip. He met us at our apartment, which I’d wanted to show him for possible future reference. And then we went to a coffee house some blocks from the apartment that he hadn’t yet been to and wanted to check out. He’s in his thirties, just about Max’s age, and his sister, like Carolina, is a couple of years younger. He told us about his travels around the world (Iran being his favorite) and how he and his wife had decided to start a travel business in their own country. They are especially interested in supporting locals and also taking tourists to places a bit off the beaten path. In the medina, in general, we were surprised to find it almost untouristed. I had expected otherwise, seeing as it’s one of the major points of the capital, included in any day tour you would see. Where we walked were alternately quiet streets and ones with many locals and markets selling everything from oranges to toys to hookahs. And many little hole in the wall businesses, from tiny grocery stores to tailors. Our street, like many others, was very quiet, an impasse (dead end. ) Yasmin had given us a suggestion for a nearby place for breakfast, which we had some difficulty finding, lots of small passages that didn’t necessarily go where google told us to go. So we spent a half hour or more looking for a place which was actually quite nearby. Which was fine, since it gave us a purpose in exploring the medina. We eventually had to ask a shopkeeper where it was, which we never would have found ourselves. Inside it was at least three or four levels high, with tables at every level. The menu had breakfast combinations each with a name, and a list of items, only about half of which we could recognize. We ordered two different ones, and were stunned with the variety and quantity when they arrived, served on trays. There were salads, eggs, cheese, bread, jam, fruit, pastries, and more. Loring’s had a sandwich and mine had a pain au chocolate. Serving a large variety of items seems much a part of Tunisian meals. Here for breakfast this morning we had lemon juice (lemonade with mint) coffee, hardboiled eggs, bread, butter, cheese, two kinds of jam, marble pound cake, cookies, and I know I am not remembering everything. At supper one of our nights at the guest house in El Kef, we were first served with what I thought was the main course, until he later brought out huge plates of couscous with lamb. And, yesterday on our way here in Tozeur in the large town of Ghansa, Mosen, our driver, brought is to a restaurant called the Seventy Six, which seemed to be part of a chain. Again, it was four floors high, lots of steps, and we were of course brought to the top level. Not fun for my aging legs, which are protesting all the steps to each location and set of ruins. But worth it in every case. Here at the Seventy Six there was a large menu ranging from hamburgers and salads to “plats” a full meal with various components. Loring opted for a salad camembert and I ordered a banana-nutella-stawberry crepe. Sounded good, and it was. I asked it it came with whipped cream. It didn’t and so I ordered some, just a small amount. I was totally overwhelmed when it arrived. The amount of whipped cream was appropriately small. But the crepe! It was actually at least three crepes, all rolled around bananas and then sliced into little rolls similar to sushi! They were mounded up into a pyramid, drenched in chocolate ( not nutella but good quality chocolate) and then topped with stawberries, chopped pistachios and more bananas. And a small serving of whipped cream to the side. It was delicious but much more than I could eat. I tried, and ate much more than I should have and probably had no more than half. And then regretted it because my stomach didn’t feel great last night and still isn’t right today. I was glad that the waiter asked if I wanted to take the rest of it, which I did. And Loring ate it last night for his supper. (I didn’t want any more or anything else.) Oh, and I fogot a couple of things: Loring’s salad with camembert came with an entire round of camembert cheese, again more than one, or at least we, could eat at a sitting. And, before our food came, the waiter came over with a tureen of pureed lentil-vegetable soup and served us some, which came gratis with the meal. So my lunch was a bowl of vegetable soup and a ginourmous seving of a multi crepe banana-chocolate-strawberry concoction that could easily served two as a meal and at least four, probably more, as dessert. I wish we’d thought to take pictures of both of our meals before we started to eat. Loring did get a picture of me struggling to eat my lunch. Though delicous, it felt ostentacious and maybe wasteful, if people didn’t take the extras home. It was as if upper class was equated with enormous quantities of food. And though not as overwhelming, it seems that the quantity of food served to us everywhere has been more than we could or want to eat. I don’t know if it has to do with class or with impressing foreigners or both. I am guessing tonite will be the same as far as quantity. I just hope that someone will eat whatever we don’t. Oh, and by the way, we’ve ordered camel for tonight. Or at least one to share, the other being the more familiar chicken dinner.

Our third and final stay

We are now in Soufriere, our third location on the island. Once again we are in a room virtually on the beach, just a few steps away. We found this place, Still Beach Cottages, on airbnb, as we did our place in Laborie. Unlike the other places, this is just a room, rather than a place with separate bedroom, living room, and kitchen. We do have a refrigerator, a microwave, and a hotwater pot. It's a little less convenient but as we have been eating breakfast and lunch at home, and dinner out, at each location, it's not that much of a problem. We have been having cereal with yogurt or milk, and bananas, at each location for breakfast, and usually crackers with cheese and cucumbers and/or tomatoes for lunch, at each stop. So the lack of kitchen isn't really a problem. It's more the lack of more space, and having to wash dishes in the bathroom sink, etc. that makes it a little less pleasant. But we do have a nice porch facing the beach and the impressive Petit Piton. So it's still a great location. This is our sixth night here, and we have only one more night after tonight before heading home. There is a restaurant right below us, and many more in town which we can walk to along the beach. We ate dinner here our first night, and plan to again tonite. Tomorrow, our last night, we plan to return to the place we have liked has the best of the several restaurants we've been to. It's called JenMwen and has some tables right on the water as well as indoors and an upper level, The first night we ate there we went upstairs, not realizing they had tables on the beach. I had seafood alfredo, and asked for light on the sauce, which was delicious. It was mostly conch and octopus with some tiny shrimp. Loring had pork ribs. He had noticed a wood fired pizza oven, and we went back a couple of days later to have pizza. But it turned out that the kitchen was closed on Mondays. So we went back l1qast night and shared a delicious pizza. We ordered a vegetarian pizza with bacon and sausage. A funny order but we wanted lots of veggies as well as meat. It was fantastic. I am not a big pizza fan but thought this was delicous. Or maybe it's the environment and everything tastes wonderful. But I dont think so. Monday when JenWhen was closed, we wound up at a place we had walked by, a block back from the beach. We thought it was a small hole in the wall local place, but when we went in the only table was occupied by another foreign (ie white) couple. And it turned out there was a large room in the back and a group of white people in there, which left shortly after we arrived. I ordered conch, which they call lambi here. The only other place I can remember eating it was in the Bahamas, many years ago. It's kind of tough, and we had to pound it fiercely to tenderize it when we cooked it ourselves. When out, we ate it in the form of conch fritters. I haven't seen any evidence of conch fritters here, but cooked in sauce, usally garlic butter, or in the alfredo I'd had. That night she asked if I wanted it in the garlic butter, or in a locally made sauce that was kind of like vinegrette. I opted for the latter. Then, a bit later, she came from the kitchen to ask if it was okay with me to have chicken lasagna as one of the sides. Since I'd orderd seafood, she wanted to make sure it was okay with me to have chicken. All meals here, other than the pizza and the pasta, are served with a number of sides. These are usually rice, plantains, salad, and one or two others. That night, macaroni pie had been one of the sides. But they'd run out, and the chicken lasagna was the replacement. The meal was so plentiful that I took probably half of it home and had it for lunch the next day. I'd done that a couple of times before. Food here is much more expensive than I would have expected. The meals hover in the $20 to $26 dollar range, not that much less than at home. Tonight, a little later, we are heading to our restaurant here, a few steps away. We ate here the afirst night but have eaten elsewhere since. There's a large lunch buffet here every day, and a number of groups of tourists come here as part of their tours. But as we tend to have our large meal in the evening, we haven't tri2ed it. I did look one day, and it seems to be similar to the choices we have at dinner wherever we go. One meal we have not had is what we've read is the national dish, green figs with, I think, rice. The green figs, though, are actually some kind of banana. Bananas aare more than plentiful here. We've passed large banana farms, or plantations, not sure what they call them. And then there are plantains, which are similar to bananas but not sweet, and are served fried or sauteed as a side dish. We've had plenty of those, at most every dinner. But I hope we have a chance to try the green fig dish before we leave. *************** And now it is Thursday and our last night on the island. Most days, here and in our two previous locations in St. Lucia, we have spent much of our time on the beach and/or in the water. For Loring, that means a snorkel or swim, for me bobbing in the waves. Luckily, at all three locations, the beaches have been sandy, as has the ocean bottom, and the waves gentle. For the most of our trip, I have had my favorite water toy, my underwater mp3 player. It has lasted longer than any of my previous ones. I think this is number five, and they have usually lasted about two or three years. I use it often at the Y. It just decided to stop working yesterday, so I feel pretty lucky. Time to order a new one! The days have had a similar rhythm, breakfast on our porch, an hour or two reading, down to the beach for another hour or so of reading until it's too hot and time for a swim. Then back to the house for lunch, more reading, another beach stay, reading or rummy or writing, a rum cocktail, then dinner at that night's choice of restaurant, usually on the water. We have only gone on a couple of excursions, although there are plenty offered. Tour folks offer packages that go to several island spots all on the same day, not only from here but also from Castries, on the northern part of the island where we first stayed. We went to the jungle tram ride from there, which I've already written about and recommend. In Laborie we stayed mainly on the beach and walked around the small town. A couple of events there, but they weren't aimedd at tourists, just a gospel service at the Catholic Church and a town event rededicating the market area with lots of speeches by polititians including the prime minister. Here we've gone, yesterday, to the mud baths not far from town. They're at a volcano, where you can walk a brief trail to see the bubbling hot mud. The temperature there is boiling, and the site impressive. The baths are lower down and the water is much cooler. You soak in the pool, then plaster your body with the mud, let it dry, and then plunge back into the pool to rinse off. It was a great experience, and we are glad we got there when they opened in the morning, before the groups from the cruise ships and other tour groups arrived. We arrived before the official 9am opening and they were already open. There were folks already there, most of whom seemed locals. We were the only white people there, although once we were covered with mud we were all about the same color. By the time we left, there were more and more tourists arriving. The baths are supposedly therapeutic, and some swear that the mud takes about 10 years off your looks. I don't know but it was great fun and I highly recommend. This morning we went to another set of baths just outside of town. Both sets of baths are fed by the volcano. Again, the suppossed opening was at 10am but they were open when we got there about 930. This place is a combination of botanical garden, a beautiful waterfall, and thermal baths. No mud this time, just delightful warm water, very relaxing, and surrounded by all kinds of tropical flowers and plants. The baths were originally constructed by the French in the 1700's. Later abandoned, then bought and restored by a man in the 20th century, for his own private use. Later on, his daughter created or restored the gardens and opened the place to the public. (for a fee, as with the mud baths, which is fine.) At the mudbaths, Lucian pay a lower fee, as they should. Not sure if that is also true at the other baths, but I hope so. We'd been told we needed just 20 minutes to a half hour to visit. We realized that's because the tours just walk people thru, without using the baths. And indeed, a number of groups came thru during the latter part of our stay, and just walked past the baths. There's a short walk to the waterfall, which by the way is featured in a scene in Superman II, which I guess we'll now have to rent and watch. The groups visit the mud baths and hot baths the same day, along with several other stops, including lunch. We are awfully glad we did them the way we did, separately. But I guess if you are on a cruise ship, or a daylong tour from the north, that doesn't work. But if you visit St. Lucia, make sure to make time for both sets of baths, ideally on two different days, depending from where on the island you are coming. We've pretty much come to the end of our stay, one more dinner, one more swim after breakfast tomorrow, and then off to the airport. It's been an excellent trip.