It's time to meet up at my place--or very near it! Since leaving Domaine Rouge-Bleu, where we welcomed visitors weekly, I have not organized a cozy get-together. How about an April rendez-vous? More details in the story column below... First, the expression of the day:
Manger la soupe sur la tête de quelqu’un
: to be taller than someone else, so tall you can "eat soup on their head"
Today's colorful expression was given to me by my friend Sophie, after she saw my 18-year-old for the first time in a year: Here's what Sophie said:
Max! Qu'est-ce que t'as grandi! Tu peux manger la soupe sur la tête de Martin!
Max! You are so tall now! You could eat soup on Martin's head! (Martin is Sophie's 20-year-old).
A Day in a FRENCH Life... by Kristin Espinasse
Sunday's hike along the turquoise coast spring-cleaned my soul! And it got me thinking: why not plan another meet-up? This time with readers!
The little fishing village of La Madrague (a stone's throw east of Cassis) is a real bijou. I love the classic pointu fishing boats, the knotted filets de pêche drying along les pannes, or landings, the line-up of cafés and the sun-dried characters that seem to live there.
But where exactly? Just which wobbly personnage goes with which wobbly boat?
As I zigzag along the quai, imagination in full swing, the heart of me longs to know every seaworthy soul! On second thought, let me look that one up and see if it's really what I mean:
seaworthy (adjective): Fit to traverse the seas
Fit? Ah là là, non! That would leave out the most important travelers: the misfits!
What use is life's voyage if we're always clamoring to join our "seaworthy" sisters? The ones waiting on the shiny boat? Might as well offer our thin wrists right now--and be led like thieves, via the speedcraft's connecting ladder.
Meantime the misfits beckon! A rowdy class on patched-together rafts, they're headed full steam ahead--fueled by a zillion little vapors.
Perhaps. Et alors? Who am I to judge!
Better to search for that fleck of light in a misfit's eyes. Can you see the sparkle? And if you look closely enough, régardant de très très près, you might even catch it: the glittering coattails of a zillion little vapors leading to l'infini.
Infinity, those dots that connect us to each other for miles and miles and milleniums.
* * *
I hope you enjoyed today's story which, ironically, veered completely off track from the first nonfiction paragraphs! I'm reminded it's not a bad thing to let go and just see what happens! Will you try this today? Letting go of rigid planning? Let me know!
le bijou = jewel
le filet de pêche = fishnet
la panne = landing (at the boat docks)
le personnage = character
le quai = quay, platform
le pastis = anis-flavored liquor
et alors?! = and what's it to you?! (so what?!)
Beyond a delicate wooden fence, Le Grand Bleu, or Mediterranean Sea. In the background the area called Les Lecques.
Jean-Marc and his high-school buddy, Nicolas (who was best man at our wedding, and who took this steamy anniversary photo on the same beach last summer! and who appeared here in our jittery wedding photo, in 1994:
That's Nico, between the priest and Jean-Marc (who looks like he's getting cold feet...).
Jean-Marc was in charge of the picnic, which began with an oursin, or sea urchin apéritif. He hunted these a few meters off the pebble beach. He also served up les oeufs de lompe and tarama (fish eggs and fish egg purée), smoked salmon, mini fromages de chèvre (goats' cheeses), and for dessert, Sophie and Nicolas brought kiwi and raspberry fruit tarts, lemon tarts, and chocolate tarts (minis). (Those are Sophie's toes, left. Sorry I didn't get her picture!)
That grotto, to the right, is where they put all the litter bugs, or pollueurs. You DON'T want to drop trash on French beaches or they'll toss you in a cave. (Not really. But could it put a stop to litter bugs?)
This-a-way or That-a-way? Par ici or Par là?
Back at the port de La Madrague. Look at that scooter. Some people know how to get around!
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