On one island to another. Chriss It's unforgettable island that gave me the idea of this text.
One day I turned 17, and it was a fabulous year. The year I grew, I think the most.
My grandmother, who spoke of the colonies because it was this time, who had a father in the merchant navy captain and having traveled with Charcot, the father placed it above everything, in short, my Grandma lived alone, were still desires, still the art of representation, I think she was still unhappy, she still believed, despite everything.
But basically what do I know?
was his last trip.
I have, but without the ability to watch all the films she has done in India and Ceylon, these trips it had organized its small Joint Centre Finistère, a major project, with all the "old" of the town. It was not so common at the time (thin, I do not know the year, but I would say late 70's or early 80's), there was not even all of these cars "Tamalou.
She asked me to accompany him. Note that if there is something that I never refuse is the idea of a trip. Here, if I were offered a trip to the garden of my bed today I would say yes, but I am not standing.
I said yes.
It took an all inclusive, travel, outings, meals, hotels etc ... and Tamalou since then.
I seem to laugh and that, at the time, some aspects of travel I did not want to. That old.
Except of course that any ever happens as expected, imagined, the finger of suspicion pointing.
The plane made its turn to approach the runway and we all very well saw its length, rather its courtesse, and the end of the runway on stilts in the water.
I was excited. The track has been lengthened since 2001 I read today.
We landed, I knew myself in landings since I flew several times over long distances, is not it. And confirm that it was very short.
I was 17 but I was not at all documented on the destination.
Madeira, a small island. Therefore, my heart jumped up out of the plane. The same green, the same "air" at the meeting. That was in April. It was not too beautiful or hot, there were many clouds over the peaks. But anyway, I had this déjà vu that pulled me tears.
Then we traveled by bus Funchal, on foot, nothing is flat, there are wide steps instead of sidewalks to break the slope.
Funchal is traversed by a river that one can hardly see it because it is covered with a coat of bougainvillea retained by the son of Iron is a fabulous show. Again, the same flowers there.
whole stay was in twists twists, the show of evil Tamalous who have nowhere at midnight when it comes to boogie, and without complex, the night I "did the wall" to monitor an employee of the hotel wanted me to visit his city ... hmm. In
red convertible, a nice little restaurant, the lights of the city, no, no, it was fine, really.
So I learned a lot that week. Chriss
shows the birds of paradise, they are also likely to Madeira.
All that to say this is a beautiful island, where bus drivers are masters of the steering wheel (should see the roads on the mountain side), and where you can find all four seasons with as and when you t pupils in the island. It is not strange that the same spot grow bougainvillea and magnificent forests of mimosa.
I do not know exactly where I was going, except to say I was moved to this island that reminded me as another. And markedly less far. This does not change anything, will you tell me. Sigh.
Look, a Cadal, me in 15 years on the beach of Salinas, Chriss you recognize?
