One of the things I have always had to work on here in France, is remembering the various fete days. That means many things are closed! We arrived in Paris, May 1-a Fete Day. I must say, it worked to our advantage...a standard hundred euro cab ride in from the airport turned into 53 with no traffic! The cab driver and I talked about holidays in France and the USA, and then he mentioned the "pont". The French bridge their holidays as much as we do, as he bemoaned another holiday here on May 8.
I set out for Figeac on the bus on May 8 with the fete in the recesses of my memory. I was on a mission. I needed a little special food for Sam and I wanted to be sure that my bank card would work.
When the bus pulled into Figeac, the Carrefour was closed. Regrouping was a breeze. Reconnecting was particularly special because, like the cab ride...the city was sweet, slow, easy, and uncrowded. I was still able to do everything I had to do, and then:
I wandered the old village, took photos and made new friends.
I reveled in: the sunshine; the color; the old and familiar; the new and improved; memories of past visits with friends from the states; and seeing old Figeac friends again.
My last stop before the bus home was La Cazelle...
...for my petit vin rouge and my kiss, kiss, kisses from Marc. It was a wonderful welcome, a comfort in the familiar, more kiss, kiss, kisses at departure, with my: "Merci Marc, a samedi!" And his simple and sweet: "Bonne Journee." Home again!
I leave you with a few photos of the morning, the smiles and the new!
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