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  • It was a hot day and Provence was swarming with tourists. We couldn't take any pictures of the sights because there were too many people passing in front of us. Constantly. We heard very little French being spoken.

    The children were getting fractious, demanding, peevish. We were sick of the sickly-sweet smell of Marseille soap and lavender souvenirs. We were tired of overpriced sandwiches and drinks. We vowed never to come back to the South of France in August. The children didn't like any of the sandwich fillings anyway and ended up just eating the bread. There was no chance of finding a bench to rest our swelling feet. Finally, we perched on a rock just opposite this kind water-stop for dogs and pigeons.

    I wished somebody had the presence of mind to create a similar oasis for tourist-humans.

    But we will be back. Just not in August. And next time, we will not be tourists. We will be part of the Cafe Society, watching the world go by.
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