Two days of rain in July. From what I have been told, this is very unusual. It is a cold steady rain, wetting down everything. We have to keep the windows mostly closed because it comes down at a slant determined to soak your floor and your socks. The clouds are heavy over the mountains outside my window, both towards Italy and towards Monaco. Dark blanketing clouds. The beaches are empty today, and the cafes are crowded with vacationing families looking up at the sky while they drink coffee and talk about when the sun will come out again.
Dennis and I walked this morning before it really started to pour. We went a different route, through back stairways toward the local hardware store. It was a place locked away from time. By at least 50 years. Nothing has changed inside, no sign of technology. Without computers or even an electric register, everything is written down in a ledger and the owner makes all calculations in his head. We went looking for Boric Acid to help keep the nightly visitors to our kitchen and bathroom at bay. However, we quickly learned that Acid Boric (as it is said here) is FORBIDDEN! Instead we were shown sticky traps and fly paper along with some more familiar plastic poison traps. For only two little bug poison hotels we shelled out 5 Euro, ($7). NOT VERY REASSURING. But I will not be deterred. This battle will be won. We plan on patching up every access point in the house, from pipe holes in the walls to ventilation ports. This isn't over Monsieur cockroach!
I know I am being TERRIBLY American about this, since we only see maybe three a night. I just have to fight them. I cannot accept it. It feels too wrong.
Once we left the french "Home Depot" with our weapons and the parting advice that our insect invaders are "very very difficult" to get rid of...the rain had stepped up ten fold. We dashed down to the deserted waterfront. Even in the pouring rain, everywhere you look it is surreal. From a movie or a painting. We found several apartments for rent along the way, one overlooking the beach and within our price range. Very exciting! Up and Up the secret stairs we climbed back to our street (Ave General-Leclerc) to make fresh salmon and green beans for lunch.
Here, France in the rain is quieter. The splash of the traffic below our apartment moves slowly. There are no voices drifting up through my open window, just cool air and raindrops. No seagulls or pigeons calling to each other. Everyone has found shelter to wait for the rain to end.
Dennis and I walked this morning before it really started to pour. We went a different route, through back stairways toward the local hardware store. It was a place locked away from time. By at least 50 years. Nothing has changed inside, no sign of technology. Without computers or even an electric register, everything is written down in a ledger and the owner makes all calculations in his head. We went looking for Boric Acid to help keep the nightly visitors to our kitchen and bathroom at bay. However, we quickly learned that Acid Boric (as it is said here) is FORBIDDEN! Instead we were shown sticky traps and fly paper along with some more familiar plastic poison traps. For only two little bug poison hotels we shelled out 5 Euro, ($7). NOT VERY REASSURING. But I will not be deterred. This battle will be won. We plan on patching up every access point in the house, from pipe holes in the walls to ventilation ports. This isn't over Monsieur cockroach!
I know I am being TERRIBLY American about this, since we only see maybe three a night. I just have to fight them. I cannot accept it. It feels too wrong.
Once we left the french "Home Depot" with our weapons and the parting advice that our insect invaders are "very very difficult" to get rid of...the rain had stepped up ten fold. We dashed down to the deserted waterfront. Even in the pouring rain, everywhere you look it is surreal. From a movie or a painting. We found several apartments for rent along the way, one overlooking the beach and within our price range. Very exciting! Up and Up the secret stairs we climbed back to our street (Ave General-Leclerc) to make fresh salmon and green beans for lunch.
Here, France in the rain is quieter. The splash of the traffic below our apartment moves slowly. There are no voices drifting up through my open window, just cool air and raindrops. No seagulls or pigeons calling to each other. Everyone has found shelter to wait for the rain to end.
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