The start of a week in French Catalonia, the corner of the country that leans into Spain and grows the wine to prove it. First evening, nothing planned, just a walk to see where we had landed.
Two locals set the tone. A German shepherd stood chest-deep in a still green lake, entirely content, watching something we could not see. Up in the village a calico cat had claimed the top of a wall with the whole valley laid out behind it, and gave me the flat, unbothered look cats keep for tourists.
Neither moved on my account, which felt about right for the pace of the place.