We purchased our first digital camera on August 13th.
We've been here, in France, since August 16th.
And Since then?
We've managed to shoot over 900 photos?? Huh?

This is along a walk in the country side in Ry. Our sweet hostess, Chantelle, who didn't even know us, took us for a ride so we could see some of the surrounding area.
I am consistently surprised and delighted by the kindness of strangers.



I took this one from the back seat of Chantelle's tiny little car...everyone drives a tiny little car.
I was astonished by the landscapes and could see why so many artists and writers were/are enamored with this country.
The skyscapes are surreal.



This one is at the top of a hill in an area called Bonsecours where our initial hosts, Chantelle and her husband Norbert live.
We stayed with them for 4 nights. Initially, we were only invited to stay two nights as the previous teaching assistant did not endear herself to her French hosts.



They were a little skeptical that we would run up the phone bill and overstay our welcome.
After a daily showing of gratitude, champagne, flower bouquets, chocolate and contributing a meal of steaming hot tomato soup from scratch made with herbs de Provence and goat cheese, scalloped potatoes, and a signature California salad , they invited us to stay a few days longer. A little American love goes a long way : )


Each day we would descend some 500 wooden stairs through a wooded area into the city of Rouen to search for a flat/apartment.


At the end of each day, we would not ascend the stairs. We took the bus with a baguette.


Observation: Each person carries his or her baguette like either a weapon or a musical instrument. I think its like Baguette Body Language or something. Probably you can tell a lot about a person by the way he carries his baguette. Huh?

Here are a few photos that give you an idea about the sky here, which changes its mood frequently.
Sometimes words are limiting when I look up and see the clarity and distinct colors.
And no air traffic anywhere.
This observation dawned on me suddenly around the third week we were here that I hadn't heard an airplane, helicopter or seen any type of aircraft whatsoever interfering with my view of the fast moving clouds.
Pretty cool, indeed.








For the next portion of this post: Reader Discretion is Advised - Toilet Humor to Follow.

This is a subject about which I've neglected to write.
There are a few of our friends to whom it might cause a fright.
But its been on my mind.
We've been discussing it with wine.
I thought it may be.
better to address it in a poem, you see.
It's the subject of poo.
Yes. We'll be discussing the doo.
So if the subject of doo,
makes you fret or feel blue,
perhaps we can suggest a more classical text for you.

But if you don't happen to reject
this oh-so-natural subject.
Then without further adieu,
Lemmee break it down for you.

(Read this next part with a avante garde jazz fusion rhythm or in the Gil Scott Heron tone)
(Maybe snap your fingers like the musical poet that you are.)
there's this city outside
with narrow sidewalks
an the people in the city
they're a hustlin' anna bustlin'
an there ain't much room
'tween the street an the sidewalk
an even less damn room 'tween the cafe tables
an the sidewalks
an justa wee bit bit 'o room 'tween the tables an the cars
drivin' down the sidewalks an the streets
an they parkin' their tiny little cars on the sidewalks on those narrow streets
and you can't walk with yo' baby 2 by 2
'cuz outside on the narrow city sidewalks
those frenchie speakin' people
are a hustlin' and bustlin' and they're doin' their thing - its the city life, man.
and its hard, man.
Cuz, there's doo-doo in France
Everywhere that you glance.
See you know you're in France
because you're scared as each foot plants
outside on the ground
when you walk around
and you narrowly escape
having to scrape
a pile of doo
from the bottom of your shoe
'cuz there's poo-poo in France
everywhere that you glance.
pile after smushed pile.
with a smell that can be vile
you're on a mission
to avoid the sound "gliissh" and
you're so lucky
that you missed that yucky
yucky
pile 'o poo.

outside outside
yes, you'll find
that avoidin' the poo will be on your mind
oh no, and it doesn't stop there - I'm afraid to declare
that inside our french flats too.
we must continue to address the poo
Let's see. How should I say this?
Well. You know you're in France
when the successful flush makes you dance.

Since when there's a 2
1 flush just won't do.
You must try again and again
cursing the fiber of your diet.....vegetarian.
You begin to understand
why they eat so little in this land.
The baguette, I regret,
and the cigarette
are the nutritional foundation
of this fashionable nation.
It's smart, I presume
to avoid the perfume
of the Reluctant evacuation
of the 2 on vacation
and its hangin' around
your flat's porcelain town.
Well, I think you understand
the subject at hand.
So, thank you for reading.
Upon visiting us, you'll be heeding,
the advice from your friends here.
Decrease your fiber
and dance if the water runs clear!