French pastries

The pastries in France do not disappoint. Day old pasties come in bags of 10 for 3 euros and I finish them by noon. The croissants have the distinct smell of butter when you bite into them and when filled with chocolate they are the best thing I've had on this trip, even surpassing cold canned raviolis. We've had one traditional French dinner at a restaurant in Montpellier as well. The dishes were either beef or pork with no vegetable options even as an appetizer. We sat and talked with a lovely British couple and following their lead I I got the pork shoulder, which was fantastic.

Other exciting events include watching a new born horse stand and walk for the first time. Just by luck we passed a field with the baby lying on the ground and the mother standing over it. After several tries the baby rose on its wobbly legs and with gentle nudging from its mother took a few small steps.

At a festival in Arles that we happened upon for the easter weekend I got to participate in a running with the bulls. The street was fenced off by 7 foot fences with bars wide enough for a person to squeeze through for about a half mile through town. The bulls were in trailers at both ends of the fenced off street. Six large white horses ridden by cowboys and 2 cowgirls as well where in the fenced off area. The bulls were released one at a time. Two horses ran in front and a horse ran on each side of the bull guiding it down the center of the crowded street as people quickly cleared the way. Behind the bull many high school aged boys (any one could participate but obviously this is the demographic that did) would run along while pulling the bulls tail, jumping on its back and grabbing its horns. Eventually the bull would slow down and come to a stop as more boys piled on. Everyone would pose for a picture, the bull would shake it's head take a few steps as people fell off and get back up a head of steam before being stopped again and sometimes a third time over the half mile. I ran along and watched while this was happening, getting close enough to touch the standing bull on one occasion, but mostly keeping my distance because those things were big and kicking and had huge horns.