Reminiscing Your Way Out Of Winter

Sometimes I think the French have it right, at least when they're not surrendering or making us look at Gerard Depardieu.  I came to this conclusion after a recent delightful afternoon enjoying mouth orgasms from eating croissants filled with melted chocolate, from a French bakery in town.

This made me remember that I went to France years ago, on a camping road trip with friends and when asked to sum up what was so wonderful about that trip, it's not the culture, the fields of golden sunflowers against a cornflower blue sky or the turquoise views of the French Riviera that are foremost in my  memories, it's the food.  Basically if you enjoy quaffing down scads of baked goods so delicious you'll melt, you will be at home in France with its exquisite cakes and pastries and fresh baked breads.  It's a wonder anyone in France has seen their own feet in decades.

Every day we were there, we would get up early, find the local bakery, stuff those still warm, almond croissants down our faces in blissful contentment while sipping strong, fragrant coffee and then, fuelled up on pastry and caffeine, drive all morning.  Before lunchtime arrived and everything closed down for the afternoon siesta, we'd stop in some rural village somewhere, once again find the local bakery and buy a bunch of fresh baked baguettes, get a lump of good, local cheese and some wine and go sit in a field somewhere to eat, drink and fall asleep in the long grass.

Every day was like that.  Eat, drive, eat some more, sleep, drive some more, find a place to pitch the tent, have a shower, go out and eat again, sleep.  Wash, rinse, repeat.  Heaven.

Compare with my current early morning start:  Smash alarm clock off the wall while grunting, "6am already, WTF?" in disbelief.  Drag shivering carcass out of bed and fall asleep on toilet while peeing.  Brew lame, no-name brand coffee and while it's doing its thing, take a shower that runs hot then cold at will, making me screech obscenities to all the neighbours.  Get dressed and drink lame no-name coffee.  Maybe eat a Poptart or if I'm really adventurous that day, oatmeal.  Stub toe on bookshelf.  Swear.  Check temperature outside.  Curse Canada and ask why it can't move closer to the equator.

Not a croissant or sunflower in sight.   Sometimes it's just not fair.

6 Responses to “Reminiscing Your Way Out Of Winter”

Brandy Rose said...

Wow, your mornings sound just like mine. Add a few more stubs toes though.

Eva Gallant said...

Pop tarts just don't begin to compare to French pastries, I'm sure.


The contrast is glaring. At least you have been to France. The closest I've gotten to that is eating fries with a beret.

Brandy - I do. I left them out for fear of sounding like the clumsy madam I am! :)

Eva - Not really no. I think the European method of pastry eating for breakfast is to be embraced. Lord it wouldn't be healthy though.

Israel - Well it was a good few years ago now but yes, I'm all about delightful tasty bad things as opposed to cardboard toaster things. :)

Linda Medrano said...

I have never quite recovered from Paris. The food and the coffee are the stuff of dreams. I cannot begin to describe how wonderful a simple ham sandwich tasted with that wonderful bread and a touch of sweet butter. It just has never been the same after Paris.

I know, I think things just taste extra delicious when you're not at home. :) Now you've made me hungry again, Linda!