Wednesday, Nov 18, 2009

Paula is very disappointed with the bottled Vichy water.  "It's just
water with bubbles."  No strong mineral taste.  

I bought 7 kg of books yesterday, carried the box over to the post
office and shipped it back to Montana.  I could never find the books in
the USA, and the store clerk assured me that it would be a lot cheaper
if I sent the books myself rather than let the store do it.

The weather is hot and humid.  I have discarded all the coats and
scarves and jackets I brought.  The locals, however, do not feel that
way.  They all wear coats and scarves.  Even the school children, whom
you can't get into a coat in Missoula to save your life.

Lots of pedistrians.  The main drag through the primary shopping
district is one lane, one way, with parking on one side, and is used by
cars, buses, and delivery vans.  I have seldom been so glad not to have
to manage an auto.  Yes, you can park one.  It costs as much to park a
car here as it does to rent the thing in Missoula.

This is the second day we have tried to walk to the big hall where the AA
conference is to be.  I always get sidetracked before I get there.
Yesterday it was the books.  Paula says I have caught my limit on books
and can't have any more.  I'll show her.  I'll hide a few more in her

Paula's cough is better.  She isn't over it, and probably won't be
entirely over it until Christmas, but it is quite a bit better.  She
sleeps a lot.  In fact, we both do.  There is something about the
exercise and time changes that seems to encourage sleep.

Nobody, except me, around here is overweight.  Nobody.  There is a
fascination with nutrition and dieting, but no fat people.  They all
look healthy.  They just love food.  Presentation is everything.  There
is a tea shop about every 100 feet.  Tea shops serve coffee, pastries,
meals, bread, beer, and, of course, tea.  You can only smoke outside.  

The French are very concerned about their health.  Nutrition is
important, drinking and smoking are treated seriously.  

Gentlemen do not wear hats.  Only the working stiffs wear hats, and the
elderly.  I fall into that last category, and so I can wear my hat.

The town goes back to the Roman days, 50 BC or so.  The architecture is
French, but not northern France.  No Gothic.  Lots of Mediterranean,
Moorish domes.  Everything made of stone and plaster.  Built to last.
Wood is for furniture. 

Wednesday I suppose we will make yet another attempt to walk all the way
to the "Palais du Congrès Opéra" where the shindig this weekend is to
take place.  Since I can no longer be distracted by bookstores, we might
make it.  I promise, yet again, to make pictures of things.