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.

Saturday, April 14, 2007

Easter= A Year in Limoges

On my return from the university, I switch buses at Place d'Aine. The bus stop is conveniently located smack dab in front of a specialty chocolate store. So I usually have about 10 minutes to drool in front of the window display. Easter means the vitrine is stacked with chocolate chickens, real egg shells filled with chocolate, and whole armies of marzipan animals. Especially tempting are the larger sized eggs wrapped in colorful ribbon. When you untie the bow, the two perfect halves fall apart to reveal a treasure of smaller eggs and chocolate fish inside. Too beautiful (and pricey) to eat.

I snap out of my chocolate-coated reverie to realize: It's been a year since we moved to Limoges!


  • At 6:41 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    one more year then ???

  • At 11:11 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    yes ?


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