I'm running on sleep borrowed from another era. My head stubbornly refuses
to embrace the new normal of European time. Sleep before 3 am? Nonsense!
Another part of me, equally stubborn, is ready to get up and get going early, very early. And so the struggle continues and the stored supplies of rest are getting thinner by the day.
All that notwithstanding, it was extremely delightful to wake up in my friends' little slice of Parisian heaven, on the corner of the Place des Vosges.
We took it easy though. Plans to eat an elaborate breakfast elsewhere fizzled and Diane and I went out to pick up bakery items and bring them home.
And so it was a leisurely morning, a leisurely breakfast and then I am, once again, off off and away.
When you plan trips in advance, it's sometimes easy, sometimes hard to anticipate what your mood will be at the time of travel. I had had an ambitious agenda for these two weeks in between my stays in Warsaw, but I am quickly abandoning it now. I don't want to visit new cities, I don't want to have any agenda, sightseeing or otherwise. So I'll stay in France, splitting my time in some yet to be determined proportion between the coast and Paris (depending on the expenses involved in balancing the two).
First, the sea.
This part I am truly looking forward to. I wrote now some years ago how my idea of a perfect getaway in France is Brittany. A place of gentle weather (not too cold, not too hot), of invigorating sea breezes, of great walks (rather than taxing climbs), of cider and crepes, seafood and artichokes -- a kind of down to earth, or rather down to the sea region that restores every part of you.
There are any number of places along the northern Brittany coast where I would have been quite happy. I chose one with an attractive rental -- an Airbnb place owned by a Parisian couple with roots in the region. It's in St Pol de Leon, which is a small town just a few paces from Roscoff (Roscoff being a seaside destination that Ed and visited whey back when).
And so, equipped with lunch, I take the noon TGV (high speed train), all the way to the farthest western corner of northern France. In Morlaix, I am to get off the train and continue by bus to St Pol de Leon (I have never heard anyone abbreviate it to just St. Pol and so I must conform and use its full and stately name).
And this is when troubles begin for me. Travel troubles. I can list about five things that unravel, but I wont say more than that, because I am sitting in a cold bar on a cold and stormy night and the bar is about to close and I have no other way to access the Internet tonight. (Obviously, you'll have determined that access to the Internet is one issue, but honestly -- it's not the only one.)
To sunnier skies and warmer rooms and good connections -- Internet and otherwise!
Another part of me, equally stubborn, is ready to get up and get going early, very early. And so the struggle continues and the stored supplies of rest are getting thinner by the day.
All that notwithstanding, it was extremely delightful to wake up in my friends' little slice of Parisian heaven, on the corner of the Place des Vosges.
We took it easy though. Plans to eat an elaborate breakfast elsewhere fizzled and Diane and I went out to pick up bakery items and bring them home.
And so it was a leisurely morning, a leisurely breakfast and then I am, once again, off off and away.
When you plan trips in advance, it's sometimes easy, sometimes hard to anticipate what your mood will be at the time of travel. I had had an ambitious agenda for these two weeks in between my stays in Warsaw, but I am quickly abandoning it now. I don't want to visit new cities, I don't want to have any agenda, sightseeing or otherwise. So I'll stay in France, splitting my time in some yet to be determined proportion between the coast and Paris (depending on the expenses involved in balancing the two).
First, the sea.
This part I am truly looking forward to. I wrote now some years ago how my idea of a perfect getaway in France is Brittany. A place of gentle weather (not too cold, not too hot), of invigorating sea breezes, of great walks (rather than taxing climbs), of cider and crepes, seafood and artichokes -- a kind of down to earth, or rather down to the sea region that restores every part of you.
There are any number of places along the northern Brittany coast where I would have been quite happy. I chose one with an attractive rental -- an Airbnb place owned by a Parisian couple with roots in the region. It's in St Pol de Leon, which is a small town just a few paces from Roscoff (Roscoff being a seaside destination that Ed and visited whey back when).
And so, equipped with lunch, I take the noon TGV (high speed train), all the way to the farthest western corner of northern France. In Morlaix, I am to get off the train and continue by bus to St Pol de Leon (I have never heard anyone abbreviate it to just St. Pol and so I must conform and use its full and stately name).
And this is when troubles begin for me. Travel troubles. I can list about five things that unravel, but I wont say more than that, because I am sitting in a cold bar on a cold and stormy night and the bar is about to close and I have no other way to access the Internet tonight. (Obviously, you'll have determined that access to the Internet is one issue, but honestly -- it's not the only one.)
To sunnier skies and warmer rooms and good connections -- Internet and otherwise!
