Nimes, France
Early evening at the station in Nimes.
It’s much harder to capture these types of shots in Toronto now. The new trains don’t allow access to front/rear windows and old trains have glass that is dirty and etched from years of salt and dirt. But when they work out, these shots should be printed big.
On the way to one of the more unusual destinations on my trip, I took this shot out the open window of my sleeper car just after sunrise. The moon still high. The light still cool. Rumbling toward Belgrade, 10 years ago today.
Welcome to Cannes, where the idle rich luxuriate and vaporize large sums of their money, all in shocking disregard for struggling backpackers. While beach chairs and umbrellas rent for €30 outside the Cannes Inter-Continental (€400 and above per night), the sand on the free slice of beach, with the backpacking, pasta-and-sauce eating, tap-water-drinking proletariat, is every bit as nice.
Death was imminent. I was sure of it. It was so humid that the word “air” could be used only sparingly. And it was so hot that there may as well have been an onion on my head and a tomato in my mouth: I was being roasted alive. The thermometer pegged the temperature at 72oC (162oF).