A wild night in Saint Guilhem Le desert.
































 This place was pumping last night. 

Lots of visitors and the square we found had heaps of tables and chairs set out in front of all the bars and cafes to cater for all the tourists more so than the locals. It reminds me a lot of Nimbin with the older hippies but no retired hitmen and gangsters. Heaps of artisan small goods, bijoux shops, galleries etc. 

Russell and I were famished and could have eaten a large pig or a small cow but opted for beef bouginon (prob spelt that incorrectly). We followed up with crepe Suzette, Russell beer and moi and 50l carafe of local Vin  rouge. Walked out of the cafe to find the square almost devoid of punters. Sunday night in a tourist village and there were 6 men and a dog out. 

We headed back close to our Gite, which is a French word for dump of a hotel. Thought we’d go back to Bartys bar where we’d started, only to find it had closed for the day too. It wouldn’t have been 8.00pm! We wandered a bit to find something else open but couldn’t so I headed back to the square and Russell hit the silk (more like hessian). I had a couple more reds and a sugar and lemon crepe because I knew if I went to sleep then I’d be awake at 1.00 unable to get back to sleep. As it was, I got back to the room lay down and was awake at 3.45 unable to sleep. Meanwhile Russell Stiltskin was “dragging his suitcase” short distances over cobblestone paths, stopping, then starting again. And he reckons I snore! 

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