I love France...

Today, I woke up to a voluptuous smell of coffee - another advantage of having a cleaning lady that so diligently serve your needs on Sunday mornings - and a lovely spring sun. After my monthly ablutions, I shook out my laziness for a short brisk morning walk to Church, when I sat down with a dozen people forming the village population that goes to Church. The parish members could all have been Louis XIV's personal friends. The priest could have been Vercingetorix' personal coach. After that, I was treated to a delicious crepes brunch in a lovely backyard in Barbizon, the village of the peintres, surrounded by a bunch of chickens hoping to grab the last bread crumbs. The waitress was all smile, the setting superb. I then painfully made my way to school to e-mail my humble contribution to our Financial Statement Analysis group project before being lured out of seriousness by a bunch of friends. As we shared more food around a cubicle table and jokingly compared job offers in the most exotic places, we could not resist the repetitive calls from the lower side of our tummies. We headed to a small Japanese restaurant in town for a nice chit-chat session, and a few drinks. In fact, I am still having a laugh with a couple of them as I write...when I should really be reading tomorrow's case and write up another couple of profiles for our Yearbook.

When I came back from Singapore and reached Fontainebleau, I had the impression that time had stopped in the 19th century. Still, Sundays in France are precious. This is such a lovely country to be in.