Monday Chores

Last night I couldn’t go to sleep, despite the soporific drum of rain on the roof and terrace.  At 3:30 I was still awake, and at some point thereafter I fell into a fitful slumber.  I turned off the alarm at 7:30 and rolled over to snooze a bit more. When I woke again it was 11:30!  As they say here, “Oop-la!”  For the first time in years, I guess the six-hour time difference finally caught up with me.

With half a day gone and thunderstorms in the forecast, I decided against making an ambitious plan.  A trip to the super-marché for things I can’t get in the village (or are very expensive in the épiceries), and a visit to the tourist information office would just about consume the afternoon.  By the time I had breakfasted the sun was out, which brightened my mood considerably.  I decided not to beat myself up for sleeping so late.

My French is holding up pretty well for only being in day three, but I have to say that it was tough trying to buy laundry and dishwasher detergent.  My vocabulary has never extended to the specialized terminology involved in selecting the proper products. I only hope I chose wisely.

Peanut butter was on my list.  Katherine told me last night I’d never find it, but ta-da! They had Skippy Super Chunk in a small enough jar that I should be able to finish during my stay. So happy.

On my walk to the canal I was struck by how the folks in Capestang have embraced graffiti. The grandly named Quai de la Seine follows a tiny river that eventually empties into the Canal du Midi, and the concrete walls constraining its flow are covered with paintings.

Upon closer inspection, I was impressed by the talent of the artist(s), whoever they may be.

After collecting an armload of brochures at the tourist office, I decided it was time to consider a pastis and watch the activity along the Canal..

 I’ve never seen anyone drink this outside the south of  France. One doesn’t order a pastis, but a Ricard, which is one brand of Pernod that forms the basis of the drink. The deep yellow, licorice-flavored liqueur comes over ice, and turns milky when you add the water brought in a small pichet on the side. It’s an acquired taste, for sure: my first pastis, years ago, burned all the way down. But it’s a refreshing drink on a hot day.