Wending through confetti to buy a ticket.

After a series of warm days, the Tramantane is blowing back winter. On the way to the train station I was greeted by whirlwinds of colored confetti left over from Carnival*.

France is definitely not Switzerland which would have removed all traces of the Fête. That it didn’t bother me as I watched the colours rise and fall above the street, I guess I've not totally Swissized my personality. On the other hand, I do pick up the pieces of confetti from my flat florr that seems to sneak in from when I was in a confetti shower during carnival, so maybe I’m 80% Swissized.

At the station, I stopped to enjoy the light on the flowers against the shadow of the palm tree.

*I forgot to point out the queen of carnival was a chubby older woman and was called Mama Carnival. Kinda nice in comparison to the beauty queens. I wonder if she is tempted to sweep up the left over confetti.