Saturday in the Park

I did my washing this morning. The sweaters, towels and socks are all hung out to dry on the line. Tonight my pajamas will smell like sunshine. There is no breakfast on Saturdays and Sundays. We have brunch, instead.

I made my way down the cobblestone path in flip flops this morning. My feet have seen enough tennis shoes for now. I save my hiking shoes for adventures in the valley.

Down at brunch, my insanely extroverted and wildly entertaining photography professor, Andy Moxon (I like to call him Moxy, but not to his face) made a grand entrance into the room, as usual. He's a Brit. Need I say more? We had a brief tete-a-tete by the fruit and cheese stand in the cove. He told me his young son loves Pepitos (French twinkies filled with chocolate). We have a stash of Pepitos in the dining hall. He said that everything his son loves inevitably ends up in bed with him, including the Pepitos. Andy said that his son's bed is 10% sleeping space and the rest is filled with books, teddy bears and toys. He said (in his thick northern English accent, which I love) "Me son wanted to take a stick to bed. He asked me 'daddy, may I take this stick to bed with me?' to which I replied, Well, I guess that's alllrigh." Andy seems to miss his son a great deal. He speaks with him every day from 7:45-8:15p.m. before the young fellow goes to bed.

My friend Mami Serwaa (from Ghana) and I were chatting about French vacations over brunch this morning. During the two months that we are here, France has at least 4 national holidays, mostly on Monday, so that they have 3.5 day weekends. They close shop early on Friday and don't come back until Tuesday.

One of the gals in our group broke several fingers this weekend. She keeps refusing to go to the hospital to have it set or splinted. This gal commented she might go Monday. I told her that Monday was a holiday and everything would be closed.

They close the emergency rooms, too. They are usually open in the morning for a few hours, but then everyone goes home. So, if you are in France and are planning on having an accident, please do so in the early morning hours. Otherwise, apparently, you are without hope.

The French have a very differently mentality about work and holidays. I told Mami that everyone takes holiday around here no matter what, to which Mami replied "But death doesn't take a holiday."

A rather true but provocative thought.