Me in yellow dodging and weaving through the crowds at the Saturday market at my favorite square in Aix-en-Provence.
It's now been almost a year since I returned from my six months in France and not a day goes by that I don't think about my time there. What I miss most are Saturday mornings. I would wake up, put on the chicest things I could think of with a red wine hangover and hit the streets. The pastry shop is first because I can't think without a "pain au chocolat" in my belly and then coffee would come next. << Un cafe, s'il vous plait.>> I would tell the waitor. Smoking a Dunhill Gris while I waited and watched the beautiful people go by. After coffee, it was off to the Saturday market to search for the days meals. Fresh fruit, assorted cheeses, and a baguette for lunch, roasted chicken with buttery potatoes for dinner. We would dine slowly on the terrace with wine flowing and cheese and conversastion. Oh, Mon Dieu. La France me manque.
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