Summer's here!

Yesterday there seemed to be an inordinate number of young boys with scraggly hair and t-shirts playing out-of-tune electric guitars. My daddy plays guitar and, from him, I've learned what perfect tuning is! Most weren't very good but they seemed to be having fun. As we continued to walk, the whole of Paris seemed to be preparing for one big citywide concert. Classical, jazz, French chanson, even those strange tribal noises that come from the deeper, darker parts of the big cities in the United States. What was it? Oh yes! It's June 21st, the first day of summer, it must be the Fête de la Musique!




And the first day of summer it was indeed! The Paris sun seemed to recuperate its generous streak after a long miserly spring. Mommy was too excited to stay on the fourth floor of 88 rue Lecourbe and kicked daddy and I on to the streets. On a day like this I felt like a walk in the Luxembourg Gardens, seeing the other children push boats in the fountains, and kicking back in one of the many chairs around the park. I also felt like getting in a little walking practice.



On the walk back I drank in the rues de Fleurus, du Cheche Midi, and du Bac. Mommy and Daddy had been good so I let them have an ice cream - she mango and he coconut. Summer was here!

On Sunday we went to the Tuillerie Gardens to meet daddy's friend and former boss/professor, Lisa. She was with her husband Fabio and daughter Julia. Daddy says that it's scary to see how much Julia has grown (I said: "daddy, people change between the age of 18 months and 12 years - it's normal"); he wants me to take my time.

But I'm in a hurry, so I decided I wanted to achieve another first. This time it was my first ride on a merry-go-round! I sat with daddy and made faces of distinct displeasure - but I didn't cry.



After a long hot day I was dying to get back to rue Lecourbe and play. I was also pretty hungry and felt like practicing my eating, which I did.




Whew! What a weekend this first weekend of summer! I'm looking forward to my second summer in Paris.

Why don't you have a look at how it started here: suddenly summer

Sand, salt and summer (well, sunny spring).

In 1627 a mean Brit called George Villiers decided to beat up a bunch of French islanders just because he didn't like salty caramel (that may not be historically accurate but I'm only eighteen months). Anyway, the French must have kicked some butt because you can get salty caramel all over the Île de Ré.

Sun, sea, pineau des charentes (and wine and cognac), salt, oysters, crêpes, salty caramel, the Île de Ré has it all. But nothing makes me go nutty like sand. Yeap, lots of sand. And I'm sure that I could have dug a hole to Australia and filled a million buckets if my mommy and daddy had let me stay just a little longer. But they were hungry.




As the Paris spring struggled to find an identity, I saw that mommy and daddy were a little stressed and working too hard. So I decided to shove them in the car and take them out to the sea. I figured I'd stick them on an island and keep them there for a week. So we headed out to La Rochelle and crossed the bridge. What a great idea I had!













I spent a week eating, sleeping and working on my tan. I also displaced gargantuan quantities of sand using my trusty bucket and shovel, and sometimes even my rake. Of course, I made sure to drink lots of water, though I wasn't willing to wear my hat for more than a few seconds at a time.


I stayed fit on a diet of crêpes, croissants and bananas...



...and had long walks on the beach (holding on to mommy's hand of course).




Daddy also walked me around and showed me off to anyone who would watch - and of course, the Île de Ré is a place to be seen! Oh, mom and dad had a pretty good time too. So good they didn't let me dig that hole to Australia - they were happy to stay on the island and eat salty caramel.



I didn't mind staying; as you can see, I was in a good mood!



If you'd like to check out some more pictures of our trip to the Atlantic coast, click here: Caramel à la fleur de sel