Tapas Surprise

It was going to be a night in, until my housemate decided to drive No. 2 son back into the city.

Her "Wanta come?" led to me being in the car in minutes. The spring night was extra beautiful even if the sunglasses-qualifying rapeseed fields are now green. There are enough flowering trees to emotionally feast on.

When we approached the Jet d'Eau, the sunlight was behind it and in front were the masts of boats sticking up like the spikes of a marching medieval army.

In another block a tree in full leaf replaced the spikes. The Jet d'Eau still shimmered. No way could we stop for a photo, having to be satisfied by sealing the moment in our memories.

The evening was too beautiful to just drop No. 2 son off, so a walk and an apero in the old town seemed a much better solution. After last week's cold, people, probably tired of huddling houses, were out in cafés. The fountains were gurgling. Even the cobblestones appeared to be happy. The top of St. Pierre, Calvin's church towered over the century-old houses.

At the Demi Lune the next logical step was a plate of tapas to go with the apero.

Why is it that nothing special can be so very special????