It’s been rather illuminating these recent weeks following the French presidential election, considering how I’ve learnt more about French politics these past weeks than in all of the past three years I’ve lived in this country. Ok, I have to admit it’s definitely handy having a Frenchie in the household whom I could pose (silly) questions to without having to google answers. In any case, please vote wisely come May 7 because you know very well what protest voting or abstention will lead to.
Rainy days are best spent in art exhibitions, especially one held in a gorgeous building that had seen better days as a sports club. We listened to a Spanish artist talk about her creative process and then left to go get drinks in a café. I haven’t had tomato juice in a very long time. Still loving the way the French serve it, with celery salt and Tabasco sauce.
I’d finally managed to watch this film (on the plane back to France) as I didn’t have the heart to drag the husband to the cinema for a film he wasn’t keen on. I’ll have to admit my interest was mostly superficial — in the all-star cast that I have a soft spot for, oh well, any reason is good enough a reason for watching one more French arthouse film. Decided against (reading) English subtitles and was glad I could reasonably follow what went on with French subtitles. It was frankly a little unsatisfying to see the film end as abruptly as it did though, almost anti-climatic following the melodramatic intensity of the build-up.