An archeological site in the South of France.
The heat of the day.
A dusty trail going up a small hill dotted with trees and resident whirring cicadas.
At the top, my husband asked this lagging wife “How do you feel?”
“Older than I thought.” I quipped, panting.
I’m unsure if it was the double vodka at lunch*, the heat, the jet lag, or all 3. Maybe it’s being almost 50 and at the end of a brutal sinus infection that had me bedridden most of July.
I’m not sure how our older folks go see the world in their 90s. Perhaps they don’t.
The Roman ruins were amazing but the sun was seering-even with proper sandals, a short knit dress, large hat and glasses (“sweetie dahling!”)…
My husband mentioned Roman plumbing near the end of our tour.
And that reminded me.
The toilets are uphill.
*I know it seems I am a goob in wine country, but I’m terribly allergic to wine. :(. So, this Nordic girl asks for “vodka avec la glacé ” and the French servers don’t bat an eye. In fact, “we have a lovely black cherry vodka, Madame…” I’m so grateful. “Skol!”