6:19 PM. So today, lunch was a pork chop and tabouli. They warned me not to eat tabouli and drink water at the same time, because that causes the tabouli to expand. Which, of course, is the same thing that happens with RICE so whatever! There was also a very juicy plum.

M took me into town. First I bought post cards at my 40 cent spot. Then I walked all the way back up to the business mail office, which is 1) empty and 2) air conditioned; and I bought my envelopes.

I walked around a little in the old town restaurant district. The old provencal way of building a town is to build the streets narrow so the buildings shade each other during the day. Also, most old streets have a very gentle curve, so you can really only ever see half a block. The buildings here are painted warm pinks and yellows, and even the white stones look warm. There are a lot of patron saints displayed on the corners of buildings at plazas and intersections. Apparently there was also an effort to make buildings mirror each other.

Anyway, there were a lot of asian restaurants, some of them even had customers. Somebody once told me that there are only two grande cuisines in the world; the French and the Chinese. They also said that Chinese food is basically the same as French food, only smaller pieces. My response? It's true...in France. Chinese food that I've seen here is limp looking and damp, and I know that they don't get the whole rice/condiment thing. Vietnamese food looks a little better, but again dies in the tyranny of the French need for separate courses. I once had my cold beef noodles PRE MIXED with fish sauce here. Can you imagine the horror?

Anyway, the restaruant district in old Aix seems pretty extensive. I also walked up and around the NW neighborhood. Hmph.

Then found myself at the interrnet cafe, number lucky 13. I cleared most of my inbox, and then when I was halfway through a long blog, it froze up on me and everyone in the room. There was some old people that didn't get it. So I said I was leaving and would be back.

By then, the sky had rumbled and fat drops had started to fall. It wasn't until I got to Bistro Romain when it really started coming down; hail "la grille" and lots of hard rain. It was also sunny. I ducked under a BR umbrella for a while, and then made my way up the street as the rain lightened up, mentally noting which cafe I might go into later to write postcards. Once I got up the street, I found some sorbets I wanted to try, and the lady was pretty. I realized the shop was air conditioned, so I asked if I could eat in. She said, yes, I'll bring it to you. Then she offered me a small pitcher of water. Then I realized why the place was so fancy: it was the salon of an MOF. The desserts in there looked absoultely killer. I thanked them and kept walking.

I looked at watches.

Finally, I went back to the Cour Mirabeau and installed myself at a cafe, where I wrote postcards and sipped a panache which was heavy on the beer and light on the lemonade. I sent my postcards, tried the internet again (this time it worked; I read blogs) and then started the walk back home. Before I could get far, I realized it was stupid of me to walk, so went to the tourist office, bought a 10 pack of tickets, and bussed home. On the way, V saw me, so I stuck out my thumb and she took me the rest of the way.

I think I will have some cake now.

Yum. It was a chewy, mellow, buttery loaf of something. At first I wanted it to be moister, but then I noticed that it was perfectly chewey and then I wanted to put butter on it. There was also spice cake, which I should learn how to make because I like cloves. Internet.

The little dog's name is Oudzo, named after the greek liquor. He reminds me of Milou, Tintin's friend. I expected him to be scared of me at first, but he liked me from the beginning, and now he follows me from the kitchen to the living room to the patio. He sits at my feet. Earlier, when I was having my cake, he drank some water. I think he sneaks behind the bushes to go to the bathroom. When he wants something, he turns in a circle, and he got excited when I told him "let's go!" in English. I don't even pet him. I'll pet him before I have to leave next week. The other day he was dreaming that he was chasing somebody. It was funny.

The other day, I dreamt that my host family had a kitchen fire. That was during my afternoon nap.

It's 30 degrees in the shade, but with the breeze it feels cool. I can hear cicadas and it seems like quailes. The neighbors are talking quietly next door.

Next week, when V is working, we'll have already seen all there is to see in Aix. We're thinking about renting a car (expensive) take a bus or train to San Remo (Is it still fun?) or whatever. I'd like to reunite the kids just once, but it's probably too much trouble.