Fille de France
After a very long transatlantic journey, I am here. I am in France, the country I have always felt an unexplained connection to and deep affection for. Ordinary things seem to posess magical qualities here. I had farm chicken with potatoes for dinner and copious amounts of un-pasteurized cheese. Farm chicken meaning it may have been plucked on the table earlier. The family I am staying with is as sweet as the gateau they bought for me. I arrived believing I spoke a little french, I realized quickly when my handle broke off my 55 lb suitcase and some nice french man was asking if I needed help, that I do not "speak a little french". My helpless face and odd gesture conveyed that I did need his help. Comment dit american idiot? Finding French lessons is top priority this week. As is exploring the little town I now live in, which looks exactly like Belle's village in Beauty and the Beast. I think I like this provincial life.
Flying over Dublin
Charming pipes over my bed. Was strictly instructed to not hang anything on them...I wouldnt?