France, Part Deux (with potty humor)

After a whole day of driving, we stopped for dinner. Somehow, we ended up at an American 50's style diner (!!?!?) but, I guess that's what happens when you don't plan your route out and rely on your GPS to find the closest restaurant when it's 8:00 at night and the kids are starving and it's called something promisingly Frenchy sounding and you just hope for the best. It was delicious, though. And, as much as they were trying, the food really wasn't American. At all. So, it all worked out.


And this greeted us right across the street.


And the kids frolicked on their first French playground. Not nearly as hazardous as its German counterparts, but still fun.


While this isn't exactly dinner conversation, I just have to go there. You've heard of the holes in the ground found liberally sprinkled about Europe, masquerading as bathrooms? Well, welcome to France. There, a not insignificant portion of rest areas don't even have holes in the ground. Discovering peeing people dotting the perimeter of this particular rest stop (our first, sans toilette), we were reasonably sure that this was the thing to do. So, the boys peed on French bushes. Cheeseball peed on French grass and also on her pants leg. Camping is an acquired skill. I held out for a hole in the ground.




Even the bathrooms are beautiful in France.