Europe's largest sand heap...

The Dune de Pyla

And it changes every year, formed and shaped by wind and water...
At the mouth of the gulf of Arcachon, opposite Cap Ferret.
Dany and I drove there today, beneath grey clouds and spitting rain; but quite a few people were already climbing, undeterred by a little damp (and chill, it was 7 degrees Celsius...).
So here you go, talk about the overwhelming forces of nature (Nature?): this is certainly one impressive sand pile!

 After our eyefull of the awesome, we descended in search of food and found a splendid restaurant on the seafront in Arcachon. Fish soup, of course. And I permitted myself a creme brulee. AAAH, no supper for me tonight.
Outside on the promenade stood a hundred-year-old carrousel, still working -- to the delight of several children who mounted the horses and elephants and circled slowly whilst accompanied by their parents walking on the ground. Dany remembers having rides on it when a small girl.

Then a drive back to Ares, along narrow roads with frequent roundabouts, past fine eighteenth-century Mairies and Ecoles de Filles separated from the boys' schools (nineteenth-century I assume) and many one-storey stone cottages mingled between new wooden houses and three-storey flats. Lots of construction going on. Everything changing. But we found the house where Dany was born, in Gujan-Mestras. House still the same, narrow road still quiet and not all the shutters closed...
Pause to muse, as so often, on Time, Change and this extrordinary compelling notion: Progress. We snort gently...