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This title is not a French word and I am taking poetic license with it. It is used in New Orleans and means a little bit extra, like the 13th doughnut in a box of a dozen. However, coming from me tonight in Nice, it means “a little bit of this and a little bit of that”. ]

I have had visitors from England as you read in the previous post. They departed early Wednesday morning with tears all around. We had a wonderful time, an intense visit and weathered quite a storm over the weekend. We have watched the most beautiful yachts reverse into their narrow harbor slips and have seen a five-master cruise ship from the Windstar Fleet tie up at the end of the port on Sunday, watched it depart Tuesday. It clouded up mightily here Saturday afternoon…not cold, or even cool, but you could feel the air get heavy and the air pressure take a dramatic dive. Sometime in the night we heard thunder and by about 4:00 AM there was lightening and thunder simultaneously and rain coming down in sheets. I put my iPhone out a window and tried to capture both the sound and the fury of the storm and if I am able, will upload the video onto this website. Sunday, we could just wring water out of the air. We wandered into Old Nice, went shopping for some fruit and vegetables and then ordered bowls of “moules frites”…steamed mussels with French fries. All three of us would probably eat them every day if given our choice.

We could tell by the paucity of vendors that the storm had “put people off” as my British friends would say. There were fewer vendors and fewer people shopping in the market. But oh how the tourists like to walk along the narrow streets, lollygag, stop to view the merchandise, barely conscious of the fact that behind them are twenty more people following along, all having to stop when the first ones stop because the little alleys are not wide enough for foot traffic to pass. I know I said I wanted to slow down, but Sunday foot traffic gave new meaning to slow!!!

The yachts in the Old Port have become a source of curiosity and entertainment. My friend Harry knew all the flags and as we walked alongside the quay, could say, “this one is from the Cayman Islands, this one is Greek, for nearly every yacht.” Now, if they are flying the flag of the Caymans, they are coming from a tax-sheltered registry, and we noted that more than half the yachts are flying the Cayman flag. This morning as I write, the crews in their smartly styled white or white and beige vetements and bare feet are in full cleaning mode making ready for a festive weekend here in France. It appears that most all the glass doors from the stern deck to the interior of the yachts are electronically controlled…open automatically when anyone approaches them, then gently close, leaving us to wonder what the interiors of these mighty boats must look like. My favorite yacht has departed. From my windowed perch on the third floor overlooking the port, looking down on the line of mostly white yachts, I dubbed this boat Mickey Mouse because of its grey color and its big round black radar devices that looked like Mickey’s ears. It even had a matching little silver Fiat coupe with a black top parked on the quay behind the double garage door opening at the stern of the yacht…which, when opened also revealed a small launch that could transport passengers from mid-port to shore. I cannot not help but think of the homeless refugees fleeing Syria…those who my friends Michael and Timothy are assisting, when I view this opulent display of wealth just outside Tim’s office window.