As I mentioned in yesterday's post, we dashed into Paris for the day. For those of you who either live in or near Paris, are French (wherever you are) or often visit because you love Paris as much as I do, you know that August is a peculiar month.
It's peculiar in the sense that one has the impression the French have abandoned their capital to tourists from every corner of the world.
The good news, from my point of view, is no traffic, an abundance of parking spaces (usually free in August), and service enterprises like cell phone and cable TV boutiques void of customers with employees positively thankful to have someone with whom they can interact. For those who have questioned the service ethic in France, ask for something in August.
If you lose a tooth however and you want a dentist to glue it back in -- not me, My-Reason-For-Living-In-France -- you can be sure your dentist is wind surfing in Brittany. In this circumstance, all I can say is "good luck."
Moving right along. . .
We are now four paragraphs into the reason I introduced the subject of August: We are all ambassadors of our country when in other countries. Dress accordingly.
In the past, one could often single out nationalities by the degree of careless, sloppy, embarrassing wardrobe choices. No longer. It appears we're experiencing a globalization of vestment laisser-aller.
I shall delve deeper into the subject next week. It's Saturday, mid-August, sadly the last days of summer and I'm sure you have things to do, places to go. I shall now -- I'm soooo excited -- harvest our first batch of tomatoes.
The lovely thing about tomatoes is that they are red (at least the ones we planted are) which means they are easy to spot among all the green weeds. Finding the cucumbers can be a challenge.
A demain for the weekly calendar. Have a lovely, lovely weekend.