Life Is A Movable Feast

Does riding your motorcycle into Canada after high school graduation and after freshman year of college count as going overseas?  If not, then the first time I went overseas was 1984, when I did the beloved, famed, yet short-lived Leeds-American University programme where Brits came here and we all worked in Congress, and then we went to London and worked in Parliament.

(Editor's note: Apparently you failed geography, as there is no "seas" between the US and Canada, with the exception of Lake Gitche Gumee, and yes I googled the spelling of Gitche Gumee, which is even more fun to say than to type.  Go ahead reader, say it.  Blogger: The question was rhetorical.  Editor: Get to the point, sigh. . .if there is one.)

So anyhow, whilst in Paris in 1984, hanging out with my friend Sue Konrad, I read what has always been my favorite Hemingway book, "Life is a Movable Feast."  It may not be his best, but when you are in the City of Lights, and read the book, it is quite moving.  Thus, I have taken three paragraphs to explain the title of this blog post (blost?).  (Editor's Note: No, "blost" is not a thing.  Blogger: But it could be!)  (Update: Urban dictionary says "blost" IS a thing, and it means what I think it means.  Apparently it is not inconceivable!)

Anyhow, we got back to our rural rental house in Ainzon.  I slipped out to take pictures whilst Carol made dinner.  It turned out to be a movable feast, as we brought it downstairs, across the dirt driveway, to our hideaway spot down by the gardens, the "pool."

The chicken was great, our host's tomatoes were beefsteak quality, and since they were grown just feet away, it was even better.  We drank two bottle of local wine bought at the vino museum at the monastery.  Carol fried the bread in the pan with olive bought at the museo de Vino, and with the tomatoes it was amazing.  Carol also cut up Severino's peppers, and they were fabulous. 

We stayed up late drinking wine and playing with the kitten (d'Artagnan).  I paid the price with my cat allergy, as my right eye later swolled up (well, even if it's not a word, that's what happened).  It was quite dark when we wrapped up our movable feast.

We loved our place in Ainzon.  I would not spend more than two nights there, but you know how you always wanted a place to go in rural Spain or Italy where you could feast on local food and wine by olive groves and wine caves?  Yeah, that was us both nights.  Goodness those two nights were special.