Lost In Limoges

From the sheep-dotted pastures of France's underpopulated Southwest, Limoges rises in all its grey glory. The city's claim to fame: fine porcelain. The half-timbered houses of the Medieval center are surrounded by strip malls and McDo. Land-hungry Brits descend with flailing pocketbooks (thanks, RyanAir). The weather is remarkably cool year-round. Sure, I live on rue de Nice, but this is NOT the Cote d'Azur. Welcome to Limoges, "the middle of nowhere"-- or as Pierre says "everywhere"-- France.

Monday, May 08, 2006

Pays, Pigs, and Protectivist Prejudice

Look closely at the picture at right. (Notice the clean lines of French design, the perfect color, the... just kidding.) But do you notice anything out of the ordinary? Anything to catch your eye? No?

Neither did I! But the French... well, that's another story. The French are keen observers, harsh critics, and adamant defenders of the faith. So when a car-- even if it's a cute, French-made, Renault Megane Coupe-- should trespass from a neighboring pays to "sightsee" in another, well, then, that is an episode that deserves to be mocked. See, the last two digits on the French license plate indicate which pays, or region, you are from, and in our case, since we bought the car in the Vendee and have not yet received our Limoges license plate, we have been ridiculed TWICE in the space of two days about our origin. I mean, cruel slurs about pig-raising or something like that. By countryfolk, even! What is up with that?


  • At 9:43 AM, Anonymous Juri said…

    Whoa, who is this MWN? She's a total babe!!


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