The rain, for six hours, in Perth, sounds beautiful. What a bonus for the dams. The water in the taps here is crystal clear, and as cold as that coming from our refrigerator at home. It feels like drinking spring water.
It is Monday morning and we have just woken at seven thirty. Both still sleeping badly, but at least in bed at the correct hours.
We are happy we brought the two little fluffy kangaroos. They were to give to any nice people we met, but they are giving us a taste of home. They are quite cute, huddled up together. Jack, we are helping them look for their babies, as they have big pouches with nothing in them. We will look everywhere for something for them to carry in their pouches.
Last night, after Versailles, we stumbled on a tiny little narrow street near Notre Dame, and followed it through to a maze of narrow streets lined with shops serving international cuisines and with souvenir shops. It was packed and we chose an Italian food restaurant for traditional lasagne and calamari. Wine was good and the salad was good, the food was forgettable. When Tashie signalled for the bill, l'addition, the waiter shook his head and smiled at her. We were right front of shop, so to say, and dressed to the nines. However he let us go and still slogged us too much. The night before was better food for less money.
We wandered into the beautiful church, full of a congregation singing, in French, the Mass, so stayed for the consecration and communion. The acoustics were the best I have ever heard, because everyone in the whole church sang. It had the glass windows, the vaulted ceilings, the flagstone floors and the charisma of bygone years.
Tashie and I talked about Queen Margot and the slaying of the Huguenots in these narrow streets.
As we rushed onto the train for Versailles, packed with tourists- millions of people visit Versailles each year-we were channelled towards a seat that was covered with bags. Sitting opposite them was a middle aged couple. The man was hostile at first and did not want to shift the bags. He seemed to be speaking to us about moving further up the train, but we just stood mutely looking at him. He said, "Can't you speak French?" in French, so I let him have my best Alliance French. He shifted his bags. We became bosom buddies. He loved Australia-best place in the world. He loved my French, he loved my daughter. When we came to step down from the train, he shook our hands and wished us bon sejour-happy holiday. His wife was so sweet-she was concerned about my obvious distress from running for the train, and sweating profusely from the humidity.