French jam

After all the wind and rain, we were disappointed to be greeted by beautiful blue skies and sun on Saturday morning as we packed and prepared to leave Brittany for the trek across towards North Paris.  Our plans were to arrive, unpack what we needed for just one night and head in for the lights of Paris.  The end of the French holiday period had other ideas.

What was a 4 hour drive turned in to a trip of over eight as cruise changed to crawl, and crawl to stop. Oh well, not the kind of jam I was expecting.

It did, however, did give me more time to notice the landscape and the views, not something I often have time for as we race across the land. It is falt, flatter than I've ever appreciated before, the view stretching out for miles and miles before you. I'd love to have stopped and clicked snap after snap of the views.  One thing really stood out for me.

The pylons there are almost human in shape, nothing like the dull, tall triangular shape we have here.  Some were even painted in the colours of the French flag, giving a certain flair to proceedings.

The kids decided to make their own fun, which consisted of eating the insides from a french baton, leaving me with the outside, resembling a telescope or kitchen roll holder. I was glad it tasted somewhat better than it's cardboard counterpart.

North Paris arrived and we knew it was too late to make a day of it. We settled at our rather odd accommodation for the night, a strange atruim-dominated 3 storey block, similar in concept to what you might find in most cities here, but again with a lot more flair. It was quite odd really, I couldn't put my finger on it. The kids couldn't wait to explore the floors, balconies and spinning chairs that filled most of the open spaces.