Sunday, Monday. . .On to Royan

Sunday it was on to Royan, a city of white buildings, red tile roofs, boutiques, tourist shops, by endless beaches. We rose early, ran to the bus, got on, then Khaldia realized she'd forgotten a bag. We would wait for her at the Metro stop, which the girls knew better than I. In a few moments she appeared red-faced, and we raced down the steps, through the turnstiles (without paying! just in time to catch the metro to the station, and on to the train.
First class the first half, which meant we were one of two families in the car, sitting twenty feet apart, it seemed, on facing seats, then a transfer to the local train, regular class, and a friendly knee to knee on this clean, modern silently speeding train.

Soon, soon we were out in the country. The girls insisted I learn cribbage, and I insisted that they observe one thing out the window between turns. Not the best approach, I know, but what we saw was out of Van-Gogh's sketch book, from the tall poplars, to the slant of the tiled farm roofs, the stone walls, the oatmeal-colored cows, from the fields and fields of wheat and, the dazzling yellow of fields of sunflowers in bloom. I took no photos for some reason, but I did a watercolor later.

A sweet gentleman met us at the station, and squeezed our bags into the car, and dropped us off at Rue Foutaine something, a simple, modern building, into an apartment with an efficient kitchen, a bedroom for K & A, a big bath with a big tub, a LR with a comfy double couch/bed for EN and I, with a table, tv and lots of shelves of dishes and stuff. I put A's books there, half of the Cambridge library it seems. Oh, I told myself over and over again not to overpack, and I didn't, but for this trip I end up putting all of the girl's gear in my bag, which now weighs slightly less than the eiffel tower. It was SO much fun hauling it up and down Metro stairways!
It was 2pm, so we decided to go exploring, and ended at the beach.

The next day, after shopping at the open air market, and a wonderful meal, by Khaldia, we came prepared with inflatable rafts, swimsuits and lunch. Here's Emma Nour's comments to her mom:
i have collected shells on the beach. grandma cant reach the internet so we are at the cyber cafe which we got here at 9:25 we went to the beach today and i just figured out that i have sand in my ears. Tata bought these inflatable mats. we used them but the waves were too small so I wished for big waves and giant sized ones kept coming, Aicha saw how that came true and how I should have asked for world peace. We had snails and calamri for lunch. bye bye mommy, enb





Khaldia showed her true colors, encouraging the girls to stay and play in the waves, even if it meant simply standing and watching, but watching was fun.

Aicha, searching for shells. The Cathedral du Notre Dame, behind, is near our place. Half the townspeople died during shelling in WWII, and the church was leveled. This all-cement cathedral rises in its stead, built in 1958. When I walk home from the cafe at night it's lit up, shining white against the starry sky, and the stars do shine brightly here. Aicha and I saw the big dipper last night.

Emma Nour, building a trench. When the waves came in she said, 'oh, no. Oh, no, code red, code red!'

And, my comments after a few days here:

It's very quiet.
People talk softly, shop quietly, play without shouting, work without raising their voice. There are no radios blaring anywhere ever. Or TVs. We're living in a city, really, two, three story buildings crowded together over scores of blocks, up a rise to the crown of the hill where the cathedral stands. The night is utterly silent under the stars. No air conditioners roaring anywhere. (It's been sunny, but even with a hot sun, always the breeze is cool and the nights are cool and comfortable.) But there's no ac in our apartment, and none visible in any windows. Church bells ring in the morning, and one or two song birds join in.

Time to go home. Aicha is anxious to leave. Tomorrow I'll try for both Monday and Tuesday photos, and catch up. All is well

love,

d.