frenchy froggie, froggie frenchy

So I am back from my travels to Colliure on the South coast of France near the Spanish border; I fell in love as soon as I saw the sunrise. Colliure was popular, indeed is popular, with artists for the nature of the natural light. Picasso and Cezanne both visited the small coastal town to take advantage of the soft, watery light. Our hotel was riddled with paintings on every available wall space and the streets each day were lined with artists with their works (and one morning, I came across an artist working on a piece in the street and in his board shorts - I took a photograph which hopefully I can get on here soon). I fell inlove with the place and managed to unwind so much I seriously considered going AWOL when our taxi arrived to take us back to the tin-shack airport.
I couldn't help feeling an immense feeling that Colliure was wasted on me; my sister would've loved to sit on the waterfront and admire the light and le chateau (the big castle - we ventured in and got lost in the dungeons) and watch the french birds (petit sparrows, hauty pigeons and aggressive ducks - more on the ducks later). She wouldv'e pored over the artwork on display. I welled with tears on more than one occassion along the waterfront; heartache Emma wasn't with me and that granddad has gone (I still keep getting hit about the consciousness with that one); but, all-in-all, I am happy. I've returned from Colliure feeling quietly-optimistic anticipation for the future. I am still tentative, because I am not used to good luck and things going my way, but I am hopeful. This feeling comes from meeting my little french friend in the photo for today's blog; I named him woo-ah (phonetic) which is french for woof (why not have the onomatopoeic word?) - he had the most self-assured aura I've ever seen in any animal or person. He was a woof (or woo-ah) about town; homeless and lonesome: he owned Colliure. We met him on the first day and I didn't see him again until we were dragging luggage to the taxi to leave, when he trotted past purposefully without giving me a 2nd glance (or even a first one, despite my delighted squeal at seeing a friend). I endeavour to be like my perm-like friend; always on the paw with absolute conviction.
I promised to return to the ducks, didn't I? Well, I met Mr and Mrs. Duck on the beach whilst I sunbathed and proffered a hand in friendship only to have it quite strongly bitten - I wasn't as surprised as I indicate here: I left my hand in beak long enough to take a photograph. I still found the ducks absolutely endearing. I think anyone french could woo me instantly, biting or no.
It is late now and I have work tomorrow so I will stop there, but there will be more photos and more on Colliure - a most amazing place... x