Yesterday we had a rainstorm in Dijon. It rains often here but never have I seen the sky open and the rain pour down on my little street. It was wonderful. It reminded me of home, summer nights when a thunderstorm would bathe the balmy Carolina nights, breaking the unbearable heat. Then I realized that the skylights were open upstairs and that my bedroom ceiling seems to be leaking and I wished it would stop.
I eventually made it with Laura and Erin. It is located at 34, rue de Rosiers, in the Marais. (Open every day, except closed Friday beginning at sundown, reopening for lunch Sunday, four euros for an incredibly delicious and satisfying meal. Get extra harisa for the kick that I am addicted to.
Before Erin and I went to Spain for Sigrid's wedding we visited Laura in Paris. The visit consisted in picnics in the park, cheese shopping and a minimal amount of museum time.
I believe that summer is on its way out here. It has been nine months since arriving in Dijon and, though the summer kept me out of town for weeks on end, I am excited about my first fall in Dijon. It feels like home. I am finally becoming a familiar face in my favorite boulangerie, the little epicerie, the best kebab, and of course the homeless guy. I think that he and I are a little in love because of our similar fashion sense. We both favor short shorts with oversize vintage jackets. AND he prefers neutral tones! Just like me. He may be my best friend in Dijon.
I thought I'd better take today to finish up my report on this summer's travels before I turn to the first food posts. So...
After my plane from Glasgow touched down outside of Paris I had a very tight schedule if I wanted to make it back to Dijon that night (bus ride into city-an hour and a half, metro from bus station to Gare de Lyon - 20 minutes). It looked like I was going to make it until our bus hit a car as we merged into Paris traffic. It was more of a scrape than a head on collision but meant that I missed my plane. I spent the night on the couch of friends in Paris and thought I'd rendezvous with a friend from the States the next morning. We missed each other after both waiting in the rain for forty-five minutes. Not the end of the world. I thought I'd go out to lunch. Every time I make it to Paris for more than a train change I head over to metro stop St. Paul and get the Falafel at L'As du Falafel in the Marias. This visit everything seemed a little off. The rain was so heavy when I left my friend's apartment I decided to throw in the towel and just head back to Dijon...Erin was arriving in a few days.
I eventually made it with Laura and Erin. It is located at 34, rue de Rosiers, in the Marais. (Open every day, except closed Friday beginning at sundown, reopening for lunch Sunday, four euros for an incredibly delicious and satisfying meal. Get extra harisa for the kick that I am addicted to. Before Erin and I went to Spain for Sigrid's wedding we visited Laura in Paris. The visit consisted in picnics in the park, cheese shopping and a minimal amount of museum time.
