Cake eating, an art form

Changing lives from Geneva to Argelès for two weeks is more than a train trip. Although somewhere around Lyon the snow disappeared.

There are similarities. Friends exist in both places, although there is more of a drop-in environment in Argelès. I bump into May in a store where I am picking up a present for Marina and invite May for a cup of tea Friday afternoon. I want to hear about her South African vacation. In Geneva events are more preplanned sometimes weeks in advance because of peoples’ schedules. Then it is something to look forward to.

I spend hours writing in both places, though I watch TV in Argelès where I also go to more movies because they’re cheaper.

It is more than going from a four-story five bedroom house to my studio on the fourth floor.

The ease in Argelès to walk down the street for all the choices of food to having to take a bus or buses is a major change. I can walk to Franck’s café for a hot chocolate. I have to take buses for the Café Auer, although the hot chocolate is better at Café Auer, but not a huge amount.

And when I go out in Geneva I dress up in at least a skirt in a sweater rather than run out in sweats. I like both styles.

I eat in more in Argelès but I scoff down sushi and Tex Mex, filet des perches in Geneva in restaurants.

I adjust my schedule to others more in Geneva and savour the company. I savour living alone in Argelès.

I smile in both places. I have two lives in one. A friend called me a cake eater. This is cake eating and licking the frosting too while two cakes stay on plates marked Geneva and Argelès.