You’d have thought (like Chris) that J’accuse would be gearing up for the orgy of football over the coming month. We are. There is however something else that is distracting us from the main world event. We are off to NY city baby! Departure is 6am tomorrow Lux time and for the duration of our stay in the city that never speaks blogging will be rather sporadic. We will fly the Brasilian flag in any case and will try to keep in touch over twitter (jacqueszammit).
J’accuse is anything but a personal diary but sometimes we do take a little snapshot of the j’accuse life out of a mere desire to experiment with the more conventional way of blogging (as well as an indirect justification
as to why j’accuse has not been so engaging over the weekend). In short it’s just been sunny, sunny, sunny.
Saturday was BXL day. A quick scappatella into the bowels of the city of stink. Walking along a sun drenched Place Stephanie and Avenue Louise we played a game of teaser window shopping. It’s NOT ok to only look – not for shopaholics like myself but I had to find a way of avoiding monetary dispensation since the NY trip is now only weeks away. A weird exhibition was to be found in a square bang in the middle of Avenue Louise. It represents all the things that have not been said… ever and is an itinerant Mexican exhibition that is also commemorating some jubilee anniversary of La Rivolucion!
Muted on Avenue Louise
Just after the muted giants we discovered the newly refurbished Toison d’Or shopping centre complete with Scotch & Soda and all the brands that make your shopping euros tingle. The pièce de resistance was the Desigual (yep, Desigual… we still love it on the ladies notwithstanding the recent bad publicity it might have got) store (ladies only for now but mens will be open in a few weeks time). Embargos on purchases were thrown out of the “It’s not the same” window and we walked out of there a couple of euros poorer (thank Haysus for the fidelity discount).
It
Back in LUX there were two splendid sunlit days to kill. Sunday began with the downer of no Brit papers delivered. Shock. Horror. Survival without the Independent would require some inventive creativity. No worries. Shorts, tee and sunroof open – one hour drive of pure greenery to the idyllic surroundings of Vianden and the piscine communale. The tanning began in earnest and with sundown a banquet fit for kings on the mosellan riviere (cote allemande) with a festival of spare ribs and scampi washed down with copious amounts of Riesling. Hot. Scrumptious. Relaxing.
Vianden, Piscine with view of Castle
Monday. Pentecost. Public holiday and all shops are firmly fermées. Which only leaves us with one thing to do. A second trip to the Vianden castle for a second coating of the by now Mediterranean tan (with the soleil des ardennes). Olive skinned and well coated we return to the Duchy in the evening for a terrrace mixed grill overlooking the Parc de Merl and its menagerie of singing volatids. Tuesday (aujourd’hui) is a day when we return back to work with the laid-back goodwill of a Mediterranean bon vivant. Even the Court of Justice can spare a smile….
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