Vegging in Villefranche

True to the title of this post, I've been vegging, too lazy to sit down and write.

Peace. Tinkling of wind through the guidelines of sailing boats. Soft muted lapping of waves against the shore.
No one in a hurry - slip slop of flip flops, quiet talking between people. The louder greetings between owners and passersby.
The odd car or truck, diesel engine going by slowly. Cars stop on side of the road (double parked) to go in for a word with someone in the cafe. Others wait. No rush, no honking.

It's been a week and it is amazing how quickly we have acclimatized to this way of life. Summer is winding down, the influx of day-trippers and cruise people has slowed down to a trickle. Even the trees are getting their winter pruning.

Our morning routine is set. Coffee on the balcony watching whoever/whatever walks by, some you recognize, others are just one-timers headed for the train station and parts beyond.

Then it's off to the stores (conveniently situated at the top of the hill so that we get our morning constitution). One constant (baguette), others are variable -- fruit, cheese, milk, water, juice or whatever sweet catches our eye. Then home again, home again, jiggidy jig.



Make lunch, and then it's beach time.

The feeling of the sun as it warms your skin. Sweet, warm caressing. Warmth of the sand as it conforms to your body., The wafting breeze,sometimes too cool, against your skin. The slight tingling that tells you that you've had enough sun.

Time to go swimming.

The crystal clear water, just cool enough to make it refreshing. Watching the small fishes swimming below you (dinner tonight?)



It's lunch break. Here, there's no rushing to the gym for a workout, rather it's off to the beach for a tan break, or even a swim. Park the car, doff the clothes, dive in and swim across the bay and back using a slow measured, unhurried front crawl, Followed by 10 minutes in the sun,a discrete change of clothes, and back to work.

Yup, life's tough here.

We have become regulars here. Evenings, we tromp down to our favourite restaurant and before we even sit down, the waiter sees us, turns around and returns with our two Sangrias, plus spoons, plus serviettes, just like we asked for the first day. Sipping our Sangria, we look around at today's catch (newbie tourists). How superior we feel, how comfortable we are in our setting.

I'd call chicken soup for the soul, but there is no chicken in the soup, and usually it is fish accompanied by wine. A powerful combination. Occasionally we go really wild and have rabbit (or "lapin" as it is known in civilized circles). It's all good.

One more week to go. Hard to believe almost two months have passed. Soon we will have to think about winter coats and boots. But not today. It's beach time.