Yes but is it art?

For number two of my occasional street art post, I’m in Warsaw. With apologies to the artist, this work reminds me of those colouring books for adults, does it you?

And is it art or graffiti?

Graffiti writing and street art are often confused with one another. Both are subversive art movements where work is displayed in public rather than a gallery setting. While graffiti artists place their work in public, . . .

Maybe this work isn’t finished, perhaps by now it’s in full colour.

 

 

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We’ll get the airport coach next time

Little did I know that when I touched down in the UK after a lovely flight, that it would take three times as long to get home as it did to fly in from France.We arrived bang on time, picked up my car and left the airport at 11pm. Half and hour later on the southbound motorway, my car was making strange noises. My friend asked if my tyres were okay, she’s considerably more practical than I am, most people on this planet are. So I had no idea. She said we should probably stop at the next services a few miles ahead. Two minutes later she said we need to stop NOW.

I pulled onto the hard shoulder and we saw that my car had a puncture. So it was cold, drizzling and very dark. Most of the traffic was huge lorries driving at crazy speeds and we were stood in a ditch, behind the barrier with cold, sandaled feet hoping my tiny car didn’t get hit.

It took a while for me to remember who provided my breakdown cover, but luckily there was a good signal and once details were taken a very efficient Green Flag lady said someone would be with us as soon as possible.

Pretty soon I had a text letting me know the name of the technician and the registration number of his vehicle and that he would arrive by 1.44am. That was an hour and 20 minutes to wait!

I didn’t know they’d sent another text saying the technician would be there by 2.15, probably just as well, we were already pretty miserable by then, but singing nonsense songs to cheer ourselves up.

Normally on the motorway, we see police cars buzzing around hooping to catch speeding drivers, and the breakdown company had informed Highway the we were an ‘incident’. It would have been reassuring if one had nearby and stopped to check we were okay. No such luck, I bet there would have been if I was speeding though!

Lewis from Newport arrived just after 2.15. He’d driven around 70 miles and had us back on the road in half an hour, driving home on a compact spare tyre at  50 mph. I crashed into bed at 3.40 am.

Breaking down on a motorway late at night is most women’s worst nightmare isn’t it? But never mind, I’ll focus on the nice parts of the journey home from Marseille.

Happy travels everyone!

Paula’s Thursday Special, Frontier

Paula at Lost in Translation is making a flying visit this week with a Thursday Special challenge, with five words to choose between, I’ve chosen ‘Frontier’.

Burkino Faso FrontierAm I the only one that hears a place name like Ouagadougou and wants to go there? The answer is probably yes, unless you say otherwise!

I didn’t cross the border, and the advice for Burkina Faso is currently only essential travel.  This was as close as I could go when I took this photo.

There are four more choices this week, gushing, aperture, triplets and tapered, perhaps you’d like to join in?

 

 

Up!

I arrived at Marseille St Charles railway station by metro on the blue number 1 line and really didn’t need to venture outside. However, the station is known for its grand approach.

When I was there, it was very hot, the blue sky and white stone were dazzling. It was tempting to go back into the station building and stay cool, but I had to check it out.

The view was fabulous, all the way to Notre Dame de la Garde on the hill to the far right. I nearly stayed put at the top, but I’d seen photos and wanted to see the stairs going up. I’d need to save my energy so I went slowly down.

It was worth it.

104 steps, I went back up even slower, pretending that I was stopping to enjoy the view, but actually saving my breathe and my knees!

LOOK UP is this weeks Lens-Artist Photo Challenge and Patti is in wonderful Florence.

Pink September 28th

A couple of weeks ago, I was on holiday in Marseille, on the Cote d’Azur. I spent a long morning on the water between Marseille and Cassis, beneath limestone cliffs, some of the highest in the Med.

Here I spotted a man scrambling up the cliff, watched by a girl sunbathing in a yellow canoe and another and one in pink!

Calanques That guy must have scraped his knees getting up there!

Becky’s back in Winchester Cathedral for the flower festival, and there are just two days left in Pink September!

 

And we had mint tea

In a riad in Marrakech in 2008 and again in 2010.

One of the traditional welcomes, steaming fresh mint tea in a cool room opening onto the inner courtyard. A delight to sit there after the noise and mayhem of the souk and Jmaa elfna, I definitely felt in the pink.

Riad HoudouHoudou means serene in Arabic and Riad Houdou was exactly that.

Day 26 of Becky’s September challenge and you can still join in.