Post Cards from La Bourboule – Why the portions are so large

I have been wondering for quite a while why the portions in the La Bourboulian restaurants are so much larger than in Paris.  I had considered and rejected any number of interesting theories, like the obsession of the Parisians with slimness and the greater cost of catering in the capital.  My favourite theory was that the recent massive influx of small tourists from Asia whose petite bodies need less food than their European counterparts had led to a general reduction in portion sizes.

But today I have finally hit upon the real reason:  Large kurb-side holes in La Bourboule!  When wandering around the town I have often observed the large rectangular holes that line the streets everywhere.  They are about two feet wide and half a foot high and appear to lead straight into the canalisation, so can be considered bottomless pits.  This morning as I returned from my daily curiste activities I noticed a small boy tripping just in front of one of the kurb-side holes, and had it not been for the swift action of his adult companion he would no doubt have fallen into the hole and vanished forever from our sight.

Now heavy persistent rains are a common occurrence in La Bourboule, and can lead to a considerable volume of water in the roads, turning them into small rivers in their own right.  Just imagine a slim person being caught in a deluge, blown about by a lusty gale, tripping, and being swept by the rushing waters into one of those kerb-side holes!  Without the large portions served by the La Bourboulians I have no doubt that the tourist population would soon be decimated to negligible levels.

The natives, of course, know all about the holes and through a long process of natural selection have achieved an uncanny ability to avoid these death traps.  But since the town depends on tourists for most of its income, and a continuous culling of paying guests by the ubiquitous holes would have bankrupted them, the restaurateurs decided to double their portion sizes, thus ensuring well-filled tourist stomachs and eliminating the possibility of their customers going down the drain.

Tomorrow I shall test this theory out on the owners of Les Galapagos!

Speaking of talking to the natives, I felt a little less exhausted from the Cure – it always takes a week or so to adjust – and decided to make a few cautious enquiries about Fatty.  My little friends had told me that his name was unlikely to be known to the natives and that they had almost certainly not seen him.  It would therefore be best to get in touch with La Dame d’Ordanche, who could probably give me some directions regarding Fatty’s whereabouts.  But aside from telling me that she used to roam the mountains around La Bourboule they did not know where she was.

Armed with this sparse knowledge I cautiously asked someone in the Library.  ‘No no,’ she replied, you mean La Banne d’Ordanche, it is right there!’  She pointed out of the window at Glider Mountain.  I asked her how long she had lived in La Bourboule – perhaps she had not heard of La Dame?  But she was third generation La Bourboulian and resented my implications.  Anyway, she had to pick up her son from school.  Then I realised she wasn’t a librarian, and that the library was closing.

Oh well, better luck next time.