People Watching, Squares and Not-a-Wind-Chime

Am back blipping by a day because of phone problems.  Fixed now,  thankfully!

It was cooler, windy and threatening rain all day today. We even carried a brolly around all day,  courtesy of the hotel.  

We were walking on the main avenue,  Mirabeau, and noticed there was a photography exhibition on - La Langage Silencieux.  It featured different photographers who explored non-verbal communication and the relationship began the photographer and their subjects.  Excellent exhibition and free.  

Lunch stop was on the bustling Place Richelme,  steak and pomme frites. Not our best meal of the holiday,  but perfectly acceptable and, of course, very French. What was lacking in the food was made up for by the people watching.  Four German tourists plonked themselves down at the tiny table in front of ours, grabbed extra seats, while others from their tour group passed by,  stopping to steal a chip. They wolfed their food down, paid up, finishing their last mouthfuls as they stomped off,  checking their watches,  off to catch their tour bus.  At the next table sat an elderly gentleman,  French, enjoying a small beer on a front-line table and stayed for an hour while he read his novel, scribbled in his notebook, studied maps, unbothered by the hustle and bustle around him. Then ourselves.  'Pour manger?,  the server asked as we hovered by a table. 'Oui',  we said quickly.  We didn't think we should be taking up a table just for a drink during their busy lunchtime.  We squeezed into the table we were given,  trying not to take up too much space.  We didn't bother asking again for the vinegar and mustard which never arrived and tried not to show our disappointment that there was no sauce with the steak. 

This is all a bit tongue-in-cheek of course,  but fun to notice.  

More wandering and then we sat for a while at Colde,  a place recommended by a local and with a local clientele -  lots of handshaking.  Nice music, we read our kindles and watched the world go by.  

We walked by the art and craft stalls and bought an 'it's not a wind chime' from the young Indian man in my collage. He spends half his time in India making pieces and half his time in Aix. It's got a lovely deep sound,  but quite heavy so doesn't actually ring with the wind -  let's see and fingers crossed.  We aren't sure where it will hang yet.

A stop off at Spar on the way back for breakfast things and then a cooler sit on the terrace at night with baguette,  cheese and pate.  So cool,  in fact,  that we moved inside to finish it. 

Oh, and we booked our places for something else tomorrow.  A small place,  so bookings are necessary.