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.

Thursday, April 05, 2007

A Capricious Spring in France

I actually got sunburned on Tuesday. Jogging through the park, sun high in the sky, I found myself smiling at the perfect spring temperatures. Older couples strolled arm in arm, gentlemen gathered for games of chess and boules, a father and son fished in the pond. I saw a hedgehog nosing through the flowers and stopped running just to grin at the little guy.

But yesterday I almost got frostbite waiting for the bus. I kid you not. Foolishly, I assumed a fleece was sufficient for a mild spring day in France, and ended up begging for a down parka and serious gloves. The flowers are as confused as I am. The strawberries are already flowering in the garden, tulips and daffodils ablooming. Alas.


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