I talk too much my mouth hurts

Each city and person has a distinct smell and/or colour. The more affect it or he or she has had on me, the sharper the said smell/colour.

From time to time it attacks me in hits of nostalgia. The crisp misty winter mornings of Angoulin, the music I used to listen to in Toronto and Montreal, the perfume that you used to wear.

Bordeaux is still too fresh for me to have a particular smell, yet. I wonder what traces of you will be left lingering on me after this year, Bordeaux.

Travelling plays havoc on your life routines, and when you're looking out for your next accommodation for the week, the healthy meal and workout plans tend to take the backseat. Even if I should be used to it by now... 

Blue rare
Bleu
Rare
Saignant
Medium rare
A point

Medium
Cuit

Well done
Bien cuit

Just made myself even hungrier...

Suddenly silent from our constant daily chatters. Leaving me feeling lost and empty, frankly a little jittery. Surprisingly so. I guess you are busy today, my anchor :)

Just like in Melbourne, tram is the norm transport here. There are only three lines, which makes it a whole lot easier to get your head around, luckily for me! (There is a fourth one coming soon, I hear.) Also, the trams are way newer, making it a whole lot more enjoyable to travel on. At major stations there are machines to buy your ticket - single trip, day pass, night pass, 10 concession, week pass. Turn the knob to choose your ticket option, press to select, and follow the prompts to pay. The tram stops have panels indicating the final destination of trams and the estimated time of arrival of the next ones to your stop. Push the door button to get on the tram, and validate your ticket into the machine, arrows facing up. Many locals don't usually bother, but once in a while there are check rounds and you will be fined if caught. Push the button at door to descend from the tram, at your stop of destination. Easy peasey, right?

Another of the Best, also from St Emilion. The Real macarons, way different from the sugary pastel sandwiched Parisian delicacies, are flatter, perhaps a little bigger, and heavily consists of almond meal. That is what I assume anyway, since the authentic recipe - the one and only - is a huge secret, handed down from person to person, one at a time. The first recipe came from a dream to a Ursuline sister in a convent near the current shop, in 1620. I adore Parisian macarons, but I really took to these too, though with only one flavour it can get a bit monotone. Half the fun in the Parisian namesake is trying to decipher the flavours and critiquing how well they turned out, after all.

Rue Saint James is hipster. Is a bit touristy. Is a bit historic. Vintage bar was a favourite haunt of A's during her university years here, though this year she will be off to Turkey on an exchange. On her recommendation I had come to this little street yesterday, but too early, so had a snack lunch at a nearby restaurant. Happy hours are on from 5 til 7. Today I went for a Ti Punch, and my goodness it was strong. Ti punch is my friend T's favourite drink, and I much prefer his version, but at €3 you can't complain!

I found a library box near my temporary home and in it, a book I've been searching for the past three years. It is one of the French books recommended by my professor from Sciences Po, Paris. Génial !

Starting out a trial run of the infamously hot - 40 degrees hot - yoga this week. I saw the studio on the way to my week-long apartment and thought, 'this is a sign.' Ready to sweat it all out, folks, excited to be a new, cleansed, person soon!

Regional specialty. I've never really thought much of them. Whenever I see them I think of a kindly aged man with silvery grey hair and beard, like the grandfather in Heidi, giving a piece of a cannelé to his little granddaughter in a dress, out in the terrace. Not sure why, though I think it must have been something I read in a book somewhere, some time ago. A said that this was THE place to get them, the BEST. I am sure he is a little biased, being emotionally attached to this town by blood, but I must say, they were rather good. The best that I have tasted, in fact, dare I say. Perhaps I was influenced by his sure enthusiasm, but they actually had taste.

I'm SDF (sans domicile fixe, without permenant residence), again. Living out of the suitcase is the norm for me and my immediate and extended family have long accepted that I shall lead a nomad life. Gran said that it's because I was born on the year of the snake and also the month/day/hour (I can't remember which) of the snake, too, so it was predestined. Well, there you go. 

I recently bought myself an iPad mini! It was partly in preparation of the year back in France - a sabbatical year, if you will - because I decided with my frequent travels it was time to treat myself to a tool that would help me work on the go better.