Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Thursday, July 25, 2013
|The only picture Kellie will allow.|
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
The problem starts with a horrible night’s sleep. I’ve been to France multiple times, slept in many hotels and few French homes, and I’ve yet to find a comfortable bed. In France, any rectangular object with a sheet qualifies as a mattress. I'm staying in a Paris apartment right now where my bed is a pair of wooden shipping pallets.
Monday, July 22, 2013
I was sitting on a park bench, engrossed in Nissim's Taleb's new book Antifragile, when I detected a new aroma. I lifted my head and saw a woman and her dog walking away. On the ground, five feet from where I was reading, sat a fresh pile of dog crap, glistening in the late morning sun. Moving to another bench wasn't an option. Shaded park benches with free WiFi connections are a rare find in Cannes, and it was going to take a lot more than olfactory assault to dislodge me.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Monday, July 8, 2013
Sunday, July 7, 2013
There's nothing like a day at the beach on the French Rivera where the locals enjoy overexposing themselves. Who can't help but smile at seeing the joy on a young boy's face as he frolics in the surf, playing paddle ball with his bare chested mother, her drooping breasts glistening with oil, flopping to and fro as she leaps through waves.
Friday, July 5, 2013
Relaxing on a sixth floor balcony of a beachfront vacation apartment in Carnet-Plage, France, Kellie asked if we were looking at the Atlantic or the Pacific Ocean. Dumbfounded, it took me a moment before I responded to her question.