Nimes
After the day at the sea, we headed east to Nimes, the town denim was first made in (de'nim) I really wanted to buy a pair of jeans from Nimes, but sadly, found none. I don't think the French are as crazy about jeans as we, Americans, are. We rarely see anyone in jeans and when we do, we say, "They must be Americans."
Close to the coast, the countryside looked to me like I would imagine Italy to look like. Vineyard after vineyard, row after row, the growing grapes will someday be wine on someone's table. Perhaps, my own.
Nimes was holding their annual Feria De Nime Festival, a Pentecost celebration. There were street vendors selling chapeaus (hats) and matador scarves. The sun was beaming, so I purchas3d the hat and Kurt bought the scarf.
There were many food vendors selling paella in huge woks. My children chose that, but I opted for pizza. We have discovered the French don't eat on the run like we do. They sit...they smoke...they talk and laugh...they have a drink...then they order their meal. They take the time to savor each bite. Then they smoke...they drink...they talk and laugh. Then, they have dessert. When all that is finished, they have a cafe' (and another smoke), A course of its own, cafe' is meant to be enjoyed all by itself.
We learned that there was a bullfight four hours later. We sat together on a big green lawn, filled with festival goers, and discussed if we should stay for the bullfight or drive home to Baran. Chelsea REALLY wanted to stay for it, but I didn't care to. Kurt broke the tie and we decided to stay. When else would we ever see one?
We spent the next few hours seeing Nimes, glorious fountains, a peaceful hilltop park, and the Maison Caree, built in 19 BC. It is hard to comprehend that length of time and try to imagine the men who built it.
And then, off to the bullfight.
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