Baguettes Bite Back

Today I cut myself on a baguette. I was told to be careful about the food when traveling abroad, but I didn't think it extended to baked goods. That being said, it took me twenty minutes to staunch the bleeding from a gash in my lower lip. For those of you who have seen me eat, and are wondering why I don't cut myself at every sitting, I will surprise you by saying this doesn't happen very often. Also, I was able to recover enough to dispatch said baguette in the traditional fashion. Thank you for your concern.

Now that the weather is approaching what I've been told is the norm (high 20's celsius), Ann has set high expectations in terms of beach attendance. The local beach is pretty sedate in terms of surf so one must wander further afield to get waves exciting enough to break your neck. And we all know it's no fun if the 'potential death' setting isn't at moderate or higher. Fortunately, Biscarosse plage would dial in at about 8 on a good day so that's where we headed after work yesterday. Don't be confused. I meant after Ann's work. Perri and I went to the 'You Pick 'Em' blueberry farm in the afternoon. I had no idea blueberries could grow so plentifully, and some of these looked like concorde grapes. Sadly, the season is closing this weekend, so we got 3 kilos. Coincidentally, Satan's baguette mentioned above was peanut butter and fresh blueberries.

After consuming our body weight in blueberries, and filling the container, we went on to the beach to meet Ann.

This isn't considered busy as you can still see some free sand. Granted, it was already 6 p.m..

Around 7 we decided to look for some dinner. At the beach, apparently, civilized people have snackies around 4:30, then retire to the condo around 7 to clean up and have a few aperitifs, and then go for supper (no earlier than 8). At least it wasn't hard to get a table, although they may have had to call the cooks to come in early.

The after dinner stroll through town drew us to the town square, where something momentous was occurring...

Quite a crowd was gathered to watch a competition, which, at first glance, and perhaps a second and third glance, was difficult to determine. Only after staying for a few minutes did I realize this was the world pinecone tossing event. There were trophies of considerable size, as well as certificates legitimizing the event. There may possibly be a number of unsanctioned pinecone tossing competitions along this coast, and, typically, the French like to keep things above board. Again, my earlier comments on the quality of local television will explain why there was a goodly number of fans.

Today, in keeping with Ann's beach quota, we biked 7 km's down to the Dune du Pyla - the biggest gob of beach sand this side of the Sahara . Sixty million cubic meters gets you this...

At over 100 meters high, 500 meters wide, and almost 3 km's long, she's a brute! Ann tells me there's a legitimate geological reason for its existence but I got sleepy when she tried to explain. Geology tends to affect most people that way (that should encourage some comments). The dune goes right down to the water so we had a nice lunch at the beach, in spite of the dearth of nudity.