There’s a special place in my heart for Calvados, having lived in Brittany for a year. I’ve been watching chef Guillaume Brahimi doing a tour of the west coast of France, which compelled me to pour a little glass of the divine apple spirit.
I love old French postcards, collected in flea-markets on a Sunday morning for 50 centimes. Their little messages penned on the back in gorgeous curly handwriting and French politeness.
The winter afternoon sun is stunning in this part of the world. The colours are at full saturation and the contrast between light and shade is dramatic. A wonderful landscape to traverse on my way home.
As well as the fancy brick work (see yesterday’s post) the back of this church caught my eye yesterday. It is three storeys high and with those tall, slender windows, quite reminded me of the cathedral in Albi, in the Languedoc region in the south of France. (Albi is also home to the
Barrels are quite amazing feats of craftsmanship and are stamped with the cooperage and place they are made. Sitting down in the autumn sunshine and placing my glass on the barrel table next to me, I was delighted to find that it comes from a place I have lived several times – the
On the surface Melbourne looks like a large, modern city, the skyline dominated by skyscrapers and the streets by plate glass windows. Look a little closer and you find oodles of 19th century Melbourne persisting quietly, including wonderful little laneways oozing with history. In North Melbourne the Might Apollo gymnasium building’s exterior remains
It was quite annoying that my train to Melbourne was delayed at Footscray for an hour this afternoon, making me late to class. There was a trespasser on the tracks that stopped all trains in and out of the city on the west side for over an hour, causing a large embuggerance for
They were just sitting up there patiently at the station, like they were waiting for a train. Maybe they were. Maybe they hopped a train to Melbourne and spent the day in the city. I kept an eye out for them on the the way home, but they must have already been tucked
Good wine still tastes good in thick motel glasses with brown wood paneling and 70s art. Maybe it even tastes better in these surroundings.
The open roads of inland Australia are long and straight and flat. I love the feeling of having my whole being stretched out wide that comes with looking at the endless horizon and gigantic blue sky where the birds of prey circle on the winds.
