Well I guess I’m partly to blame. Repeatedly proclaiming my love for grey has made it come after me. Thunder, lightning! The way grey loves me back is frightening. There’s been a dreadful storm this weekend in Marseille.

So dreadful that the floods came. Dreadful that it seemed like it was the end of the world and Bruce Willis would come to the rescue. Although we knew that the stormy weather would eventually calm down, still, there was a moment of doubt.

And when we thought the end was near, we were free to do as we please.

While waiting for the heavy rains to stop, we decided to go to La Caravelle, a very trendy bar on the second floor of Hôtel Bellevue which boasts of a breathtaking view of le Vieux Port.

When we were seated at our table, we ordered for tea but we were told that they didn’t serve hot beverages.

And there, Sarah cooly said, “I’ll have COGNAC, then.” “At 4 pm?”, I remarked with eyes wide open, then I heard myself say, “Ok, I’ll have the same thing!”

So that was how we found ourselves spending the afternoon witnessing the sky unleash its fury on us in what seemed like an eternity. The thunder was deafening, the wind blasting violently against the windows and the heavy flash floods rushing towards the whole city. Funny, it was if we were on a ship.

We managed to weather the storm. Completely pummelled by the rain and yet, we felta sense of pride, bursting into fits of laughter while splashing our feet through the flooded streets.

There was no need for Bruce Willis to create the perfect happy ending. Marseille is fine. I’m a little dazed and the weather seems to look good this morning.

It means it’s time for me to go back to Paris! Pffff.

Bonne journée!

Edit: I take back everything that I’ve said. Over here, the sunshine’s nothing but a short-lived illusion, the thunder’s roaring and it’s raining again. Brrrrrr. Paris, here I come…come…come!!! Bisou!

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* Suggestive of  “Après moi, le déluge”, said by Louis XV, yet supposedly coined by his lover, Madame de Pompadour. The original quote, however, was believed to have meant either the king’s prediction of trouble on the horizon (true enough, the French Revolution broke out years later)  and/or his indifference toward the future of France after his reign/death.

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Translation : Magali Eva Suárez.