Now one would think that by this time in the annoying travel chronicles of the selfie stick I would have championed the cause entirely and Chris would be a convert. I even brought a second selfie stick for him so that he could join in the fun. It too is a pink hello kitty stick. Alas no. Conversion failed. He hates it. “Je detest!” he says. I say hater’s gonna hate, hate, hate. I shake it off, shake it off, yeah.
Rule #8 – You keep talking about the selfie schtick after I have said “enough” you may find that thing jammed down your throat. Really. Knock it off. Pout all you want. I don’t care.
We both were up and packing up our stuff for an AM departure. Today we travel from Collioure to Cassis, so from the Catalan-France, Roussillon AOC area over to Provence, which is known for all things shitty in France especially the herbs and wines. We shall suffer here for four nights, five days with that 5th day a travel day over to Antibes. Antibes is our gateway to Cannes and Nice (which I hear is nice) where a pile of seafood waits for us at Astoux & Brun – a place I visited years ago with Fr. Jim when we did a cruise together. Someone may need to light a candle for us.
After a quick shot of espresso both Chris and I walked across the street for a swim. I swam the lap of the port of Collioure which took about 30 minutes and felt great. I must have been a manatee in a past life. Well, what was until someone ate me. I hope they used garlic and butter and made pate out of my manatee liver. Apparently all the duck, pick, goose, chicken fat I’ve been eating has created a bit of a wetsuit out of my skin, or a bit of buoyancy. Chris says it is the salt water of the sea, but what the heck does he know? There were only a few fish to see- the ugly little bitter ones that most people do not want to eat. The Mediterranean has been pretty well picked over. Ugly, little, bitter. I think the fish likely thought the same of me.
Lunch was a quick stop off in a coastal town of Sete- which was recommended by our dear Bohemian girlfriend Armelle. Shockingly we had to wash our Moules – (Muscles) down with a nice Rose. They have cute centiliter bottles- 30 and 50 – that have been a better companion than the 750 Milliliter (75 centiliters, 7.5 deciliters) we get in the states. They are also a bit better on the budget. I don’t think I’ve used centiliter as a word since the third grade. I’m regressing. Most everyone knows that already.
The drive and landscape of trip reminded me of much of the California coast – especially the dry bramble of the Monterey coast. I found my thoughts driving to the commented we often will say, “it’s a Mediterranean climate” with a desire to pinch myself and say “uh, yeah… well you are IN the Mediterranean, so here it is just “the climate” you moron!” Our house host had a family emergency so we were delayed getting into the condo. We also had MISERABLE traffic that felt like the San Jose to Sacramento commute, except that is was only 6 kilometers (which took 1 1/2 hours). I did get an AWESOME traffic selfie-video, which I can’t wait to post. Our consolation: more time to day-dream, drink water and have a light snack- because after sitting for four hours in the car after devouring a pile of muscles one needs to snack.