(Ways I considered beginning this postcard: Well..?! / Oh my God. / Holy / A series of these: !!!!)
We are in Europe. The whole bumbling lot of us. Now in Paris, before that Brittany, before that Croatia. It’s been a crazy-wonderful adventure. And we still have a few days up our sleeves.
We’ve been sleepless and blurry-eyed, sprinted to make connecting flights, had luggage go missing. We left B1’s most special blanket on an island off Hvar. And got it back again. Eventually. We’ve driven on the ‘wrong’ side of the road. Gotten sunburnt. Argued. Tantrummed. Taken bracing, deep breaths.
But then… One night we listened to a traditional klapa group performing in a crumbling monastery under a night sky and another day ate truffle and scampi pasta overlooking ocean that was blindingly turquoise. We have had chocolate pastries and kouign amann for breakfast, fresh, fat (practically obese) cherries with lunch, ice-cream to end the day. In Croatia we went to a party in a castle right across the water from Italy and in France dined on lobster while mist and rain swirled around the Breton cliffs.
Tonight in St-Germain we listen to a gazillion people watching the World Cup final and tomorrow join in the Bastille Day celebrations. Are we here? In Paris? Is this real?