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