Is it Possible to Have a Buddhist Holiday in France?

You would think that my French husband Maxime would be overjoyed to be going back to France. Three weeks revelling in Bordeaux wines, truffled foie gras and other froggy delights! But in fact, he's a bit nervous.

Since he took up his new health regime, Maxime has replaced his formerly favourite breakfast of chocolate sandwich (yes, really - chocolate in bread - instant croissant au chocolat!) with ... rice bran smoothies. He has shunned wine in favour of filtered water or cider on special occasions. He used to say he lived to eat, and now he trots out pseudo-Buddhist maxims about keeping things in balance. I feel like I'm living with a yogi. Or maybe Yogi Bear.

But in France, such temperance - ça ne va pas!

'My friends are used to me living a little differently,' he told Mum ruefully the other day. 

That is, opening champagne at 10 in the morning, ordering steak for dessert and dancing with his glass of wine instead of me at weddings.

'I'm not sure what will happen to my weight,' he said.

Hmm, I think I could have a stab at that one.

So which Maxime will our French friends great when we get off the plane tomorrow? The low-alcohol Amazing Ciderman or the Wine Lord? My money's on the latter - the temptation of ripe brie and baguette, pommes de terre sautés, confit de canard, a glass or five of Vieux Telegraphe ... not even Buddha could say no!

Let's wait and see. The next post from Alsace, France!