I haven’t felt like writing in a very long while, I’ve tried to concentrate on photography, half guessing and half knowing what I’m doing. 😉 I can say that I’m slowly starting to get a grip on it, but the more I understand, the more there is left to learn. I did discover what I already knew, that I prefer intuitive pictures to the very technical ones and that’s always a relief, given that I’m such an anti talent when it comes to anything slightly technical. 😉
I love Mediterranean lifestyle, but this year was so hot I thought I’d melt right there on the sidewalk like an ice cube. I had trouble sleeping at night and I found it hard to find the motivation to do anything after midday. Had I been traveling solo, you would have found me in the shade, eating olives and drinking rosé or sitting on the beach under an umbrella with a cocktail all day long. 😉 But I thank the stars my love is less affected by the heat than I am and generally a much more reasonable person altogether. 😉 Haha! And even though we had our share of self indulging, we also found the time and energy to travel around a bit.
I realized I wrote the previous entry in a state of what you might call holiday blues. Now, four days away from our return, I feel I can do our vacantion more justice.
I wake up at about 8, my mouth a bit dry from too much wine yesterday, my head heavy with sleep. I have trouble falling asleep when it’s this hot. I move around from the couch to the bed and then back, chasing the evening breeze.
I open the doors to the balcony and let the morning light in, then follow it for the rest of the morning, first as a perpendicular line on the neighbouring block, then like a reflector on their balcony door, as if waiting for whoever lives there to step into the sunshine and grab their 5 minutes of fame.
I make some coffee, it’s too hot to drink it warm and so I add three ice cubes and a dash of milk. I listen to the city sounds, the occasional car or motorcycle ventures into our little alley and I welcome the feeling of everyday peace it brings me.
I open my book, it’s supposed to be glorious, but for now I fail to see it, so I put it away and start reading about a trip to Mauritania in winter, walking through the dessert and sleeping under the stars. Maybe we could do that for Christmas?
I open the cupboard and take out a couple of Oreillettes, sweet cakes thin as a sheet of paper, sprinkled with sugar and tasting like orange blossom. They’re so good, I need to learn how to make them, I don’t think I can live without them from now on.
Today we’re going to F’s aunt for lunch, so I should chill that rosé and brush up my French. It’s coming together, all the words I forgot or never learned in the first place suddenly come to the surface.
She lives in the countryside, in a quaint stone house by an olive grove, with a husband and a lovely dog who’s afraid of her own shadow.
We’re looking for a property, for now we’re still dreaming, but I could really see myself living here during the summer and I know that if it was my place I wouldn’t have time to get bored.
It’s ten already and I’m still lounging in my beach towel, to hot to put on clothes and too alluring to go back to sleep.
Drop me a line. I’ve missed you!
This must be the longest holiday I’ve had since childhood, I tell him. So long that I wish we were somewhere in the countryside, so I could at least make some use of my time, like making jam or pulling weeds from the flower bed- haha!
As I was telling you a couple of days ago, we combine eating out with cooking our own food, even on holidays. I’ve always preferred renting a place that at least allows me to make my own coffee and putting together a couple of easy dishes for lunch, every now and then and Montpellier was no exception.
Ever since I set my foot in Rhodes, in 2006, I instantly fell in love with the Mediterranean way of life. Although you may think a southern French town like Montpellier has little in common with a sleepy Greek island, I beg to differ. It’s the way of enjoying life, in small portions, be it on the beach, at the local coffee shop or taverna, in one’s own garden or in the streets. I simply love Southern Europe and think I was born to live in one of its countries. How I ended up in Norway is a mystery to me and how I never seem to be able to do anything about it makes me really sad. But what can I do? Move to Greece and turn into a street vendor? No, thanks. I’d rather have a real job and live for the holidays, as sad as that might sound.
The days go by slowly, filled with small incidents and petty errands. In the evening, our heads are full of plans and the day after holds the promise of never-ending adventures, but the morning sees them all crumbling down, like a house of cards, due to the heat. I’m so lazy I could beat a cat in a idleness contest. I’m so lazy I could probably purr, I just haven’t tried it yet.