I’m in France, and I still don’t know how to work all the technology I have, but I’ve decided that instead of just writing about the one thing I’ve been writing about for a lifetime—if you know me at all, you know what it is—it’s time I started doing something else.
After all this time I still don’t have the proper tone for a blog. Don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Which is why the photo above is probably appropriate. Facing into a dead end. A very pretty dead end, to be sure, delicate and historical, dates from the 16th century, at a hotel next to Provence which Arlette and I reached at nearly midnight on a full-moon night, after a trip down one of the worst roads I’ve ever driven. It wasn’t a road, really, more like a continuous ditch. But at the end of the road, this: We allowed ourselves an extra day just to flop and take pictures and gather our breath. Unfortunately we couldn’t stay there for the three days we’d hoped for, because there was no way we were driving that road more than once: to get out.
Some lessons learned on the road so far:
When reserving a chambre d’hIote, be certain the price quoted is for two, not each.
When you have double hip replacements and funky knees, don’t try squatting in the bushes to pee.
Provence, once you get there, is a little bit of heaven…..
Well, I consider this progress–a blog post with pictures. Tomorrow the world!