For a moment I'm going to make a comment about right now, rather than just what happened on August 27 (although this applies to a slightly lesser degree to August 27 as well): the winds in Provence are furious, intense and loud. My understanding is that these winds are referred to as "mistrals". According to the linked wikipedia article, these mistrals are key to the climate of southern France/Provence; if they continue like this for any significant portion of the year, i can see why. The house I am in is at the top of a hill (or halfway up maybe) and surrounded by trees and vineyards, all of which I can see swaying in the wind. Bicycling is popular here in Provence, but there's no way I'd like to be on a bicycle when the winds are blowing like this (they were blowing far less furiously in Texel, and I was plenty intimidated by that).
Either I have managed to unluckily catch some very intense weather in Europe (rainstorm in Zurich, rainstorm in Suomenlinna, Finland, rain throughout Iceland, rain in Amsterdam, very heavy rain in Copenhagen, rain in Paris, and even one evening of rain in Barcelona), or I must/should come to term with the reality that the weather in Los Angeles truly is exceptionally good. Even though most of these places never got particularly cold, the unpredictability of the weather made all plans uncertain, and required preparation for all possibilities. And this in July and August (where in Los Angeles, I can usually assume the weather will be "hot".)
Friday morning I woke up late, completely slept through the morning in fact, and missed D, E and R's bike ride. Spent a few hours on the computer though, which felt great. R returned earlier, and he and I drove to Menerbes (close by) for lunch (caesar salad). We returned to the house, and relaxed for a few hours, sat out by the pool, took a short nap.
At around 7:00 p.m. we drove to a bed and breakfast run by two Dutch friends of D and R, where a dinner was being hosted for the guests of the bed and breakfast and for us. I was immediately introduced to about 15 different people, mostly Dutch, some Belgian, one from Luxembourg, one German, all friendly, and all on the yearly 3 week holiday. In a way, I felt that the tables were turned as far as talking about holiday. Usually when I meet people on 3 week holiday I silently seethe with envy, but here, I felt almost ashamed explaining my 6-12 month holiday to people who would be returning to work in a scant 2-3 weeks.
The evening began in the living room, sipping sparkling rose wine, listening to Chet Baker, listing the various locations I had visited in the Netherlands. The party then moved to a long outdoor table, from which we eventually watched the sun set over the Provencal hills. The multi-course meal was delicious (foie gras (which seems to show up remarkably often in Europe) with a salad and jelly, chicken, another entree I can't remember, a chocolate cake, and three other parfait-looking desserts). I sat next to a Belgian/Flemish couple who were visiting this B&B for the second time, and were so proud of how well they had aged that they insisted that I guess how old they were (I would not do it -- the answer was 49 and 50, but I would have guessed many years fewer).
The sky was clear in the countryside, so I could see the stars and the moon clearly.
Pulp -- I Spy
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