Well, the holidays are almost over and as Downith says so far so fat. Oh my holy jaysus, how much food can two people consume in a few short days? I’ll tell you, too much. Last night I was up every two hours munching Tums in between vivid carbohydrate/fat-induced nightmares.

It all started innocently enough with some lovely tea from the coolest Tea Man in Strasbourg.

And from there things ramped up considerably.

Every ten feet there was a stand like this. One half of the market smells like hot pretzels and waffles and crepes covered in cinnamon sugar while the other smells like mulled wine and spicy cider. After sampling one of everything yet another scent wafted across the breeze, chocolate. Now we’re talking.

A couple of those, then a couple of these …

It was time to get the hell out of there. I figured I’d be safe strolling the streets away from the temptations of yet more delicious goodies. We spent hours gazing at all the beautifully decorated windows and, as everyone knows, window shopping is harmless right? Right.

Mon dieu! And thanks be to dieu I couldn’t afford a single caramel from this shop let alone a whole bear made of chocolate. The big box on the left could be yours for a mere 125 euros. Amazingly the line for this boutique wound right around the block as did the line from the swanky cheese shop next door. Same thing at many of the stunning bakeries offering the most beautiful Christmas cakes and pastries I have ever seen. From what I saw the French are certainly willing to lay out the dough for … dough.

But what does a sensible and frugal gal like me do after eating her way through a gigantic Christmas market in France? Why, of course, a feed of Chinese …

To those who think me gauche for feasting on fried noodles and sweet and sour pork in a pineapple in France, kiss me arse. It was heaven, maybe even better than Miracle Whip. Anyway, copious amounts of French food were scarfed down the last night in Strasbourg followed by a five hour Christmas Day lunch back in Semur. Champagne, smoked salmon, foie gras, duck confit, cheeses, salad and two masterpieces from the local patisserie (merci Elodie!).

Then yesterday I received a care package stuffed with chocolates made in Newfoundland. There’s only one word to describe them, gone. The only thing missing at this point is some good old Alka Seltzer. That and a personal trainer. And by trainer I mean someone to help me button my pants.

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