In the morning, Anna, Nathan, Sam and I went to a small market in a neighboring town. Stalls of food -- cheese, fruits, sausages, Christmas pies -- stood next to other stalls filled with clothing, sunglasses -- it was as if the Honolulu stadium swap dropped down wares into a quaint French provincial village.
We sampled some cheese and some lavender honey. When the honey hit my tongue I could smell the flowers through my mouth. Then the smell lingered even after we walked away.
And when we walked back to the car, the steeple of the town's church rose in creme-colored beauty in the bright blue sky.
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