Monday, December 15, 2008

from France: droplets and photos

We’re on our last two days in Europe. It rains, we go out, it pauses, resumes, pauses.

We ignore it.

Let me do things differently in this post. Let me put up a few photos from the day and describe these for you. Nothing more, just a fistful of images:

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The market in Nice is a six-day-a-week event. I have been curious how they handle winter. And now I see that they pretty much ignore it.


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We leave the market for a few minutes. I'm curious -- how is the Mediterranean reacting to all this added rain?


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That's a very agitated sea. We watch for a while, but the wind is strong. We retreat back to the market.


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It's still raining, but there isn't much force to it. All this time, Ed walks without an umbrella. Why, I ask. That's girlie stuff, he tells me. Fact is, many men here are indeed into umbrella avoidance. Instead, they wear hats. The rain bounces off the rim and they (basically) stay dry.


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So, what's an everpresent item at a Nice market? Especially on Sunday?


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Roses! To take to you Sunday meal hosts.


Another detour away from the market: this time to Old Nice.


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...with old habits, old foods, old pots.... etc.


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So now I am getting hungry. In the marketplace we come across a place that totally draws me in by its display of meringues. I love large meringues! Large usually means that they retain some softness inside.


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But I'm thinking I should have something healthy first. Ed? Ed's not hungry. Ed dozes while I eat.


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We're done with the market. Ed's rested, I'm satiated. We walk back to the sea. It's loud!


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Ed records the retreat of the waves on his cell phone. Imagine what it's like to hear water retreating over a beach of pebbles clashing against one another...


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We walk along, mesmerized by the sounds, the many colors of the water. We're not the only ones.


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Oh, you've spotted the trees? They are selling them in exactly the same spot where I used to go to the beach a couple of Julys ago.


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The tree stands are much like the ones I remember from my childhood in Poland. We watch people pile on trees onto their small cars.

And now the rain has let up again. We walk through the Christmas market on the Square and Ed asks if maybe maybe we could do his very favorite food for dinner...


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I cannot say no... The guy loves the bread and cheese here too much. And so we make our way back, pausing at a store so that I can take care of some holiday purchases...


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...finally to retire to the quiet warmth of our attic room at the Grimaldi, where on a towel, we spread out dinner.


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