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Q SCOOP – Dr Serge rader, ancien pharmacien balance tout sur la covid. https://dlvr.it/RxRfx9
April 2021 - Rennes - France
Les couleurs de la ville.
Toulouse Toulouse Buy it on my personal website : https://ift.tt/1MTEKn9
Amal El Rhazi, Novadiscovery s'attaque aux virus in silico. La rubrique “La pépite” met à l’honneur une jeune pousse française. Aujourd’hui, rendez-vous avec Novadiscovery qui a développé une solution pour simuler l’impact d’une maladie et d’un traitement sur un organisme virtuel. « Le développement de nouvelles thérapies est un process très long […] Lire l'article
For ayurvedic nadi parikshan camp on *18 April 2021
☘ *Sunday - 18 April 2021 * ☘
🍁 *PULSE DIAGNOSIS*
👉 *NADI PARIKSHA*
🍁Know YOUR PRAKRUTI ( vata, pitta or kapha)
🍁know your best
suited food 🍏
🍁 know disease before it comes in body💪😫
🍁 Remain healthy and maintain health💪😃
🍁 Enjoy life to it's fullest
🍁 follow Ayurveda 🌿
⏳ *10 am to 1.00 pm*
✌2 n half hrs empty stomach prior to appointment & one & half hrs for children
Sri Sri Temple of knowledge, Kansai road, plot no.109, Radha gopal Apartment *Ambernath East*
📱 + 91 9594317558
Contre le chômage, neuf maires socialistes et écologistes préconisent des "emplois verts" https://ift.tt/2PWNENd
Le patron d'un restaurant clandestin raconte ne pas avoir "d'autre choix" https://ift.tt/3wMRIAk
Marseille: accusée d'avoir dîné dans un restaurant clandestin, Michèle Rubirola dément https://ift.tt/3dSOVNg
Église Saint-Pierre, Vienne, France
Chateau de Chambord is located in the Loire Valley of Loir-et-Cher, France. The 16thcentury castle was built as a hunting lodge for King Francis I and served as a symbol of his power. Once the French Renaissance castle was finished, the king found it drafty and preferred to live at his other estates, so he only stayed at Chambord for 72 days during his 32-year reign. The castle has 426 rooms, 282 fireplaces, and 77 staircases. An 18thcentury kitchen and the royal bedchambers are located on the first floor. The castle boasts a double-helix staircase inspired by the king’s friend Leonardo da Vinci. Work on the castle continued under king Francis’s son King Henry II, then his grandson, King Charles IX, and ended construction under King Louis XIV in 1685. Chambord Castle has a central square building and a keep with four towers, turrets, a lantern tower, cupolas, and domes. The estate is the largest enclosed forest park in Europe, with roughly 13, 443 walled acres. A 16-acre French-style garden was designed in 1734, while improvements and additions to the gardens occurred throughout its history. During the French Revolution, the castle was looted but not destroyed. In 1871, the estate was overseen by the Count of Chambord, who hired an estate manager, restored the castle, and opened it to the public. In 1883, the estate was inherited by his nephews, the Austrian princes of Bourbon-Parma. Due to their Austrian nationality, the estate was placed into receivership by the French state. In 1930, the castle and estate became state property. In 1981, Chateau de Chambord became a UNESCO’s world heritage site. The castle also sells products made from the estate, including honey, game terrines, wooden objects, objects made from antlers, wine, oak wine barrels, and more. Chateau de Chambord is open to the public and offers a restaurant, bike riding, a boat ride, a horse and birds of prey show, and electric cart rentals. Currently, the castle is closed to visitors, but the outdoor sites are open.
La France avant la folie 🇫🇷 Revisiting France in March 2020 🇫🇷 Partie deux de quatre
After truffle, cheese and wine-induced dreams, I woke to the view of the castle. It was even more impressive in the daytime. In the kitchen Andy was making coffee fresh back from his usual early-riser walk routine. He’d bought pain au chocolat from the local supermarket and we ate them toasted while we spoke about the plan for the day. We packed up all of our stuff and headed to the car that Tom and Andy had begrudgingly parked up the hill the night before after touring the newer part of town after taking a wrong turn.
When everything was secure, we carried on by foot to the entrance to the castle walls. We paid the fee and found our way up to the ramparts. From the view two things were clear; it was once a vast fortified city perched high above the surrounding lands, and it was freezing. The rain of the night before seemed to have brought an icy wind along with it and we were exposed to it at our dizzying heights. We worked our way along the wall, stopping to admire the countryside on one side and the various buildings within the city walls on the other. We passed an amphitheatre, a monstrously impressive cathedral and tower after tower that had been added to and upgraded to the decor du jour over hundreds of years.
Halfway along we had an opportunity to climb down from the rampart to see a little bit of the city contained within the walls. It seemed like a good opportunity to get out of the wind and somebody suggested we stop for an early lunch. We found a little square where a surprise sun shower drove us into a busy little restaurant. We were ushered upstairs and handed menus. Carol and Andy both opted for onion soup followed by cassoulet, a sumptuous casserole of white beans, sausage and duck meat. Andy even had a beer, but I thought I’d give myself a break after the excesses of the night before.
Appropriately revitalised with the calories we’d burned (and then some) in the sub-Arctic breeze, and with the rain gone, we walked off lunch with a little bit of retail therapy. I was still chilled to the bone when I spotted a display of sheepskin aviator hats outside a shop. It was the vivid red and blue-dyed, long-haired, soft-as-silk sheepskins that drew me into the sales bin. With no prices, it looked like I had to go in to find out more. I turned around to see that everyone else had carried on into the next shop, but it was too late - I wanted one of these hats. The inside of the shop was warm and smelled of leather. Aside from hats, they had an impressive array of jackets and coats. I tried on a couple of hats and enquired about the price. I’d done it again... fallen in love with a hat before realising that with great quality comes an equally great price. It was the Cambridge hat debacle all over again. I opted for a racy deep blue number with Tuscan lambskin on the outside and soft Merino on the interior. I sheepishly carried my bag out of the shop and into the next one, where Carol and Andy were having an argument about which one of them would get the fetching ladies hat. Carol won the battle after she berated Andy for being a hat upstager and threatened divorce. She settled on a black and red number and we carried on. The boys ended up with beanies and we worked our way up to the ramparts for more sightseeing.
We arrived at Le Petit Cochon, greeted by Saskia and Andrew’s usual warm hospitality. Showed up to our rooms, we all took a break to recharge and get ready for dinner. Andrew graciously dropped us off and we said we’d walk back, perhaps via the pub.
Dinner at La Ferme de Flaran was as magnificent as it was the first time we visited. It was nice to show it off to new people and a good opportunity for me to practice my French. I had gotten a little better, with a few more words in my vocabulary and the waitress understood what I was saying this time. I hope that next time I will be able to understand her responses. Andy ordered two French staples - escargot and foie gras. Tom and I each tried a snail, which was smothered in garlic butter (making it tasty by default). Tom flat out refused to try the foie gras based on his fear of offal. I wasn’t sure I agreed with the process by which it is derived (force-feeding geese in their final days to fatten their livers), but I was curious to try it. I wish I hadn’t, because it was one of the most incredible things I have ever eaten. It had been seared and the inside was a delicate and silky smooth texture. It was fatty and buttery and rich. I don’t know if I can say that I won’t eat it again, even though the practice is barbaric. So conflicting. We carried on into dessert (all of the usual suspects - creme brûlée, tarts tatin, etc.) then started a slow walk into the cool evening. I wasn’t sure I was up for a drink in the pub, but it was England v. Wales in the rugby and the pub owner was Welsh, so it felt rude not to.
I ordered a creme de menthe, wanting to replicate the perfect end to the previous night’s meal. What came out was not at all like I was expecting. A glass of green syrupy liquid was placed in front of me. It was the teal green of mouthwash and tasted about the same.
Despite Wales losing the rugby, everyone was quite jovial. I went off to the loo and came back to discover Tom had devised a new mannerism not unlike his extended “come stai” greeting from Venice. This time it was an elongated “bonsoir”, complete with a deep bow from the waist. Lucky everyone was in a good mood! Such a good mood that, minutes later, everybody broke out into a inpromptu sing-along of “The Power of Love” by Frankie Goes to Hollywood. And here I thought Littleton was the only village that did group singing.
We sat outside and got chatting with the locals, including an Englishman who had spent decades in Valence with his French wife and their children. He relished an opportunity to speak English, so we relaxed into it. By the time the second drink came out - this time a lager that somebody had been drinking, it felt like a bad idea to carry on. I called an end to the evening when the son of the mayor of a neighbouring town asked me about how we all knew each other. When I said that Tom was mon mari (my husband) he paused, mulling it over. He replied cautiously in his French accent, “It is okay. I am, how you say, bisexual.” It had all gotten a bit too strange, so I necked my pint and rustled up the crew for a long overdue sleep.