Wednesday, July 17, 2013

The not-so-pretty parts of my day

Ok, let's start right off by saying I have no right to complain. I am in the South of France, and I am damn lucky to be here. I know that, you know that. So let's not consider this a complaint, just a balancing of the scales. I have shown you beautiful art, beautiful architecture, beautiful beaches. Now I'm telling you about the other part of my days. This is the underbelly of my days; the part I try to ignore, to suck up, because how lucky am I to be here.


There are just a few things. Like the fact that I literally cannot walk the 10 feet from the house to the laundry line without getting several large, French mosquito bites. At any given time I seem to have about 8 of them. The interesting thing about French mosquitos (les moustiques) ls that although they are fast as hell and apparently really fucking hungry, the bites (on me) fade away after a few hours. I can't say the same for Anna, but I'm not sure if that because she scratches at them more or if she's just more of a delicate flower than I.

Also, this:

Hey little guy!

That guy was crawling across our living room floor this morning. A long, long time ago, a lifetime ago, I went on an archaeological dig in Israel and from time to time, we would encounter scorpions. In fact, compared to Israel the bugs in France are puny, so really I should shut the hell up right now. But time has gone by, and I have become wimpy in my old(er) age. I do not enjoy sharing my home with scorpions, and I certainly do not enjoy sharing my daughter with them (delicious though she may be).

In all honesty, I have other complaints. I will just fess up to that now, list them here and be done with it:

• We cannot walk anywhere from where we are staying. This is because there are no sidewalks, not even a shoulder, and the road is full of crazy French drivers whipping around curves haphazardly. The good news is there is a bus very close by that takes us right into town. The bad news is the bus stops running at 7pm.

• It's hot. I know! It's the South of France, what did I expect anyway!? I'm just sayin', it's hot, and if you open a window, 7000 moustiques move in and basically own the place.

• There is not much art here. There was. In fact, there were 57 Picassos here that I was very much looking forward to looking at for the 2 months that we're here. But instead, there is a temporary exhibit called Nuages (Clouds) and all 57 Picassos have been taken down. Ok, I said, after I stopped twitching. Perhaps we should give it a chance. Here's where they lost me: The peanut mounted in such a way that it's cast shadow resembled a cloud. 57 Picassos. 57. Ok, yeah. I'm still twitching.

Okay, okay. I know. You're hot too, and your mosquitos are even worse. You've had scorpions sharing your bed for ages now and you just roll over and flick them out.It's true, I'm whinging and its boring. I'll stop now. I'll go drink my cheap, good wine and eat my cheap, good cheese. I'll plan my next trip to the Mediterranean and get over myself. Just as soon as I stop twitching (and scratching!).

1 comment:

Unknown said...

Always about balance... hey last time it was too cold! Not to gloat, but weather here is perfect. Had some good rose'? Missing all of you....XO