If you are only here for the sailing stop reading right now.
Okay, consider yourself warned. The number one reason I have this blog is to document the events of a life that seems to be speeding by too fast. I had planned to be on the boat this week exploring the archipelago but my Santa Monica neighbor and his teenage boys who were scheduled to join me on the boat were forced to cancel at the last minute, leaving me with a week alone. Preferring not to single-hand at this stage on Arcturus, I used the chance to visit my dear sister and her husband who live in Arcachon in France’s Aquitaine region, just south of Bordeaux. They are retired and live to my mind a fairly idyllic life of late breakfasts, late lunches and leisurely dinners lubricated by plenty of good local wine.
I spent a week with them and the highlights (apart from their lovely company) was visiting the gorgeous French hillside town of St Emilion (yes, where the wine comes from), and enjoying several ‘degustations’ at rock bottom prices, and stopping by the nearby town of Port Laross, where the oyster farmers from the bay of Arcachon sell their wares, freshly brought in from the oyster beds. A ‘Grand Large’ portion of a dozen #3 oysters, with a glass of white wine, aioli and bread and butter cost 16 euro, and I added a dozen bulots (whelks) for an additional 9 euro. Sitting by the small working port eating this wonderful simple bounty of the sea…well, as so many folks say, it’s what it’s all about. On the way out I spotted a local, obviously a working man from his clothes and slightly gruff demeaenor, dining alone…apart from dozen oysters, the bottle of local dry white wine and the pack of smokes keeping him company. He was far too fearsome-looking for me to take a picture, but it was really a classic tableaux of French country life.
Vive la difference…
