Day 7

The glorious morning sun penetrated my eyelids and brought me from my slumber. Said eyelids, however, firmly refused to open and somehow my head found itself further under the covers. So, it was a little later than usual that I made it to the boulangerie, fearful of incurring the wrath of the Goddess should I fail to return with her morning offering. And quite rightly so, as it turns out. Monday mornings are busier than Sunday, Saturday (go figure) or even Friday. Arriving 20 minutes later than usual, the baguettes are almost gone and there are far fewer croissants left. Must be more diligent demain. Also wondering if I'll keep dropping French words into my correspondence once I'm home and this is just a happy memory. Speaking of happy mammaries, the Goddess has informed me that we are out of sunscreen, so I will hurry to the pharmacy or there will be no ritual anointing happening today.

And so it transpired that I found myself in US Markers again, not too much later. Since this is supposed to be a trip report, it might be of interest to note that Mondays may not be the best day of the week for shopping here. The cheese selection was really depleted and the nice French lady working that section didn't seem to know too much about what is and isn't stocked. The lack of rum was weighing on my mind and I decided on a bottle of Dominican Brugal at only €5. Big mistake. It has an odd musty taste, almost like bark or as if the taste of the aging barrel was in the rum. Not pleasant and it requires a hearty punch mix to disguise the taste; Coke doesn't cut it. My punch mix, BTW, is 3 parts pineapple, I part orange and one part tropical fruit juice medley and a splash of grenadine -- damn tasty for something knocked up out of nothing, if I do say so myself.

And so another beautiful day stretches on to its close. The moon rises full today and as day turns to night so does the sea turn to silver. Ye gods, this is a wonderful place. 

Dinner was at an intimate little place called Les Gourmets Passionnés. Our choice  was an interesting dish of prosciutto-wrapped pork tenderloin with a Creole black beans & rice accompaniment, followed by a simple locally-made vanilla ice cream.

The Goddess and I wrapped up the evening watching The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets Nest, the last in the Millennium Trilogy. It's slow and deliberate and obvious and there is no way it can be anything other than anticlimactic. With that observation my day comes to an end. A bientot.