We just returned from 2 days at our favorite getaway spot--a little beachside hotel on the female side of the peninsula. During the winter months, it's rife with French tourists escaping the Paris gloom--mostly wiry men in berets playing petanque, young couples in matching swimsuits (meaning:bottoms only), and lots of ridiculously skinny pork-rind brown women lounging poolside beneath cumulus clouds of cigarette smoke. But during the muggy summer months, we take advantage of the off-season specials and usually own the place.
We celebrated an early double wedding anniversary with Touti and Escotty and treated CrazyLady to some time away from the shop. Walks on the beach, endless shell-collecting, three-course meals served pool- or beach-side, good company, a drenching predawn storm... a lovely respite.
My favorite part hands-down was blasting the air-conditioner and (get this) taking a
hot high-pressure 20-minute shower. Sheer perfection, I tell you. Compared to my daily cleansing regimen (which generally consists of stifling curses whilst twitching under a cold dribble after having bludgeoned a centipede to death with the shampoo bottle), this was utter bliss.
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