From the top: train-mail-car turned book shop in Auvers-sur-Oise, where we also experienced the creepiness of the Age of Impressionism Museum. No photos, it was too frightening. Next: a wall outside of Claude Monet's Giverny home, where he cultivated extensive gardens and painted his famous water lilies series. Next: Me and Claude. Old, old friends. Next: This is one out of many completely alien-looking flowers to be found in Mr. Monet's gardens.
Giverny was gorgeous and it was nice to smell plants and not people. The bus ride consisted of me sleeping and reading "Love in the Time of Cholera," my next book for the month. It's quite good thus far, a lot about Parrots and people with strange, not so very Latin names, as Garcia Marquez tends to do.
My French family doesn't have a can opener so I opened my can of tuna with a bottle opener, punching a series of holes around the edge of about half of the can then attempting to rip off the top before someone came in and asked me questions about what I was doing. I don't have the vocab for that. Cut my hand, but the tuna on a fresh baguette with hummus and water was delicious. Tomorrow: bacon sandwiches! Then I must make my French recipes this week. I'll let you know how it goes. Hopefully I'll be able to avoid all of the cream.
Also, not brushing my hair after a shower turns it into nothing less than a fiasco.
A bientot!
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