I’ve now spent twenty-four days in France (twenty-three of which I’ve been in Nantes) and have little more to show than a broken pair of shoes, a lovely copy of Le Robert Micro, and a few ticket stubs. The lung cancer from the second-hand smoke, of course, will not appear for several years, so I can’t lay claim to that just yet.
I’d like things that I post here to be more or less chronological, so I’ll leave you now with the last few pictures from Paris. On y va!
These are mirabelles. They are small plums. You know that they are French because they are very expensive (4.80€ le kilo!), they can only be harvested for a few weeks each year, and they are considered les vraies mirabelles if they’re not from Lorraine, where the soil and the climate are ideal…or something like that. But they’re really good, so maybe I’ll splurge one of these days.
Here’s a poor picture of the back of Notre Dame de Paris. At this point, I was being ushered around in a group of eighteen and wasn’t much in the mood to stand and take pictures of one of the city’s most obvious land marks, as historical and wonderful and blablabla as it may be.
And here’s my first meal in France, only steps away from where I took the above picture. Un jus d’orange, un café crème et un croissant – terribly typical of the lovely things to eat here.
Okay, okay à bientôt!